


Oh, Brother...

by the-captains-ayebrows (EscapistFiction317704)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Attempt at Humor, Emma/Liam BroTP, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Light Angst, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6849493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EscapistFiction317704/pseuds/the-captains-ayebrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FAKE DATING AU!!!!<br/>Emma's roommate Liam is still recovering from a nasty breakup, but his brother Killian is constantly trying to get him back into the dating scene. When Emma finds out that Killian is coming to visit for the weekend, she offers to pretend to be Liam's girlfriend to get his brother off his back. It's just for a couple of days after all. What could go wrong?<br/>This is NOT a Liamma fic - It will definitely be Captain Swan, I just had to go about it in my own little weird way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lenfaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenfaz/gifts).



> First of all, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the amazing Lenfaz!!!!  
> Believe it or not, this came out of a prompt you gave me a long time ago: "You’re my roommate’s cousin [brother] and every now and then you come over for dinner and we keep making eye-contact and I can’t tell if you’re playing footsie with me under the table on purpose or not but I’m okay with it.” That bit of prompt will show up in a later installment.
> 
> This story is (or at least ultimately will be) fully compliant with the famous Lenfaz Liam Rules.
> 
> To get started, enjoy a little bit of Emma/Liam Roommate BroTP!

“Liam.”

_ Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. _

_ “ _ Liam!”

_ WHIIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- _

“LIAM!”

Liam startled, nearly dropping his power drill before turning in the direction of the voice and removing his ear buds. His eyes landed on the pajama-clad and clearly angry form of his roommate, Emma Swan. “Bloody hell, lass. How long have you been standing there?  You scared me half to death!” 

Emma leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her fingers tapped an agitated rhythm against her upper arm as she counted to ten in an attempt to stave off the flood of curse words she felt edging their way to the tip of her tongue. She shouldn’t lose her temper. Liam Jones was really the best roommate she could’ve possibly asked for after her previous roomie Mary Margaret had gotten engaged and moved out.

Emma had initially been wary renting her newly vacated second bedroom to Liam when he first answered her ad. In fact, if he hadn’t been the  _ only _ person to answer the ad, she probably would’ve rejected him simply because she didn’t think she could cohabitate with that much handsome without doing something stupid. Tall, broad shoulders, great hair, steely blue eyes - living under the same roof as that just  _ had _ to be a recipe for disaster, right?

Thankfully, it had only taken 48 hours after he officially moved in for her to realize that he was never meant to be anything more than her slightly annoying, overprotective and way too organized big brother, and she his charming if occasionally a tad slovenly little sister. So yes, he was a perfect roommate in that he always paid rent on time, cleaned (one might say obsessively), cooked and was generally a kind-hearted guy and good company. But… he did have his little quirks. Like the way he used home improvement projects as his own form of therapy.

Emma released her frustrations in a long-suffering sigh. “I’ve been standing here since exactly 7:32 a.m.,” she answered as calmly as possible.  “Do you want to know how I know it was exactly 7:32 a.m.?”

Liam pressed his lips together, dropping his eyes to the floor momentarily before looking back up at her guiltily. “Actually I have a feeling I don’t want to know that. No. But I reckon you’ve the right to tell me.” 

Emma continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I know that it was exactly 7:32 a.m., because that’s the time that my alarm clock showed at the moment I heard the first  _ hammer strike _ on this fine Saturday morning. We’ve  _ talked _ about this, Jones!  We have  _ ground rules _ . No power tools before 10:00 a.m. on weekends, remember?” Emma grumbled sleepily, but then her eyes landed on the coffee maker, full to the brim with a fresh pot of liquid gold. 

Glancing back over at Liam, she took in the ridiculous big, blue puppy dog eyes he had fixed on her. “My apologies, Swan. I was just feeling a bit restless this morning. Forgive me?”

Emma huffed, but her demeanor softened perceptibly as she poured herself a cup. “I guess. But only because you’re plying me with caffeine.” She finished with an emphatic jab of her pointer finger in his direction.

She ignored his self-satisfied smirk, and carried her cup over to the breakfast nook to sit at the dining table (one of Liam’s additions to the apartment because apparently “civilized humans do not eat meals at the coffee table, Swan”). Liam poured himself a cup and joined her, taking the seat adjacent to hers.

Gesturing back toward the kitchen with her mug Emma asked, “What the hell are you building anyway?”

Liam smiled, apparently gratified that she’d given him an opening to show off his handiwork. “New storage baskets for the pantry door. Now you’ll be able to find those ghastly toaster pastries you favor so much without having to dig for them. After that, I was going to build you a closet rack for your boot collection.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “So what you’re saying is that you’re tired of me having to ask you where the Pop Tarts are and leaving my boots all over the apartment?”

Liam grinned even more broadly. “What I’m saying, lass, is that you are very lucky to have such a helpful and considerate roommate.”

Emma snorted at that. “Really, Jones? Then what  _ I _ am saying is that as  _ your _ very helpful and considerate roommate, I’m seriously considering staging an intervention for your Container Store addiction. We’ve gotta find some other way for you to burn off nervous energy.” Emma paused, taking a sip of her coffee. “Maybe you just need to get laid.”

She’d mumbled her last comment under her breath, though she could tell Liam heard it anyway. Something like hurt and embarrassment flashed across his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a cocky smirk. “You offering, lass?”

Emma raised an eyebrow and waggled a chastising finger in his face.  “Oh, don’t even start that with me, buddy.  We both know you couldn’t handle all of  _ this, _ ” she deadpanned with a sweeping gesture from the top of her off-kilter ponytail down to her fleecy duckling print pajama pants. 

Liam quirked an eyebrow at her and hummed - the sound more of an “if you say so” than an agreement. He took a long draw of his coffee and Emma used the quiet pause to study him. It was there again this morning. That  trace of melancholy and hurt and - dare she say - fragility that came over him from time to time. It’s appearance had been decreasing in frequency and duration over the last six months, but it clearly wasn’t ready to leave him for good, or maybe more accurately he wasn’t ready to let it go quite yet.  Still, it definitely explained Liam’s need for the manly operation of power tools that morning.

As Liam set his mug back down, Emma reached out and gave his forearm a squeeze. “Hey. I was kidding about you getting laid, but you know, it honestly might not be the worst idea in the world for you to interact with a member of the opposite sex who isn’t me once in awhile. I know Ariel messed you up pretty badly - I get that, you know I do - but it’s been what? Over six months now?”

Liam leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily pressing both hands to his face as if to hide from Emma’s concerned gaze. She did get it. That wasn’t just lip service. Heartbreak was certainly something she understood from experience. Hell, that’s probably the  _ real _ reason she took Liam on as a roommate. He’d shown up on her doorstep with a printout of her Craiglist post in hand and a hangdog expression on his face, still reeling from a fresh breakup, and well… Lost souls have to stick together, right?

Liam lowered his hands and turned his head to stare absently out the window. “Aye. It has. I just...” he shook his head to clear his thoughts and finally turned to meet Emma’s eyes again. “I just need a little time.”

Emma attempted a small grin at him. “Okay, but not too much more time or else all the single ladies of Storybrooke are going to start  _ queuing up _ as you say outside our front door to get first crack at you. Fair warning? If anyone tries to bribe me with bearclaws to send you on a blind date with them, your ass is _ theirs _ .” 

Liam rolled his eyes at her, but she didn’t miss the way the corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly. “Ha, bloody _ ha _ , Swan. You’re beginning to sound like my wastrel of a brother. He’s forever trying to convince me there are oh, so many other fish in the sea.” Liam sighed, seeming to draw into himself once again. “But I’m not interested in just another  _ fish _ . Ariel was something  _ special _ she was-”

“What? A mermaid?” Emma interjected with an innocent bat of her eyes.

Despite Liam’s best attempt to look disapproving, a snort of laughter escaped him. “Droll. Very droll, love. I do believe you really would get on with my brother. Cheeky smart arses, the both of you.”

Happy to have seemingly pulled him back from the brink of an epic sulk, Emma smiled at him over the rim of her coffee mug and took another sip. “So speaking of this  _ wastrel brother _ ,” she asked making a poor attempt at imitating Liam’s accent, “when do I finally get to meet him? You’re always going to see him in Boston on weekends. It’s about time he hauls his  _ arse _ up here to Storybrooke.”

Emma hoped her voice only conveyed a polite interest rather than the burning curiousy she harbored about Liam’s elusive brother. She’d seen pictures of the younger Jones, and he certainly shared his brother’s good looks, if maybe a slightly darker, brooding edition. But more intriguing than his appearance was that - from the little snippets of information Liam had divulged about him - Emma couldn’t get any kind of read on what sort of a man he was. Everything seemed to contradict. Liam obviously loved his brother deeply, so there must be a good man inside him somewhere, but to hear Liam describe him, Emma was almost convinced he was a pirate. That couldn’t be right, could it? The mystery was maddening.

“Ah. Well, be careful what you wish for, lass,” Liam answered, standing to move to the coffee maker for a second cup. “I’ve had word from Killian last night that he’ll be coming up to visit this Friday. He’ll be here all weekend. You’ll get your fill. That is, if I don’t throttle him for dragging me to every pub in a 20 mile radius in an attempt to get me  _ laid _ as you so eloquently put it.”

Liam placed his newly refilled mug back on the table and reached for Emma’s empty one to refill it as well. She acknowledged the kindness with a murmured “Thanks”, as she furrowed her brow in thought. “Is that what he’s been doing every time you go visit him? Taking you to bars to pick up women?”

Liam gave a wan smile as he handed Emma back her refilled cup. “That he has. I go along because I know he means well. He’s trying to help me get over my heartache the only way he knows how.” He paused, scrubbing a hand down his face and mumbled quickly, “Not that I’m convinced rum and one night stands did much good for his own broken heart.”

Emma filed that little piece of the puzzle away for further examination. “But it’s exhausting, right?” she asked with a sympathetic raise of her eyebrows.

“Aye. It’s exhausting.” Liam replied, slumping heavily back down in his chair.

Emma leaned forward resting her elbows on the table. “So go on a date, then. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I can fix you up with someone - again, probably whoever offers me a bearclaw. Or onion rings. Or -” Liam shot her an unamused glare. “Sorry not the point. You meet them for coffee a time or two. Tell Killian you’ve been dating and then he’s off your case. Simple.”

Liam shook his head. “Swan, I find your willingness to sell me for food rather disturbing. Besides, I’m afraid one date wouldn’t be enough to do the trick. Meddlesome blighter probably won’t give me a moment’s peace until I’m settled down with a wife, a mortgage and a pair of yellow labradors.”

Emma laughed lightly. “So the overprotective brother thing goes both ways then?”

“I suppose it does. Comes from having no one in the world but each other for so long,” he answered with a warm smile that made Emma’s heart twinge with empathy and the tiniest hint of envy.

How very different would her life have been if she’d had a sibling to cling to as she drifted through the foster system? Someone to love, to fight for, or hell - just to fight  _ with _ .  Then again, it was basically a miracle that Liam and Killian had managed to stay together until Liam came of age and could become his younger brother’s legal guardian. That type of magic could never have happened to Emma Swan.

Blinking away that train of thought, she hummed, refocusing on the task at hand. “Well, it may not be a picket fence life with a Mrs., a house, and dogs, but you’ve got a lease, a couple of stray cats that you feed down at the docks - yes, I know about that.” Emma ticked off the points on her fingers. “And you  _ do _ live with a woman, in a very literal sense. Isn’t that close en-” she stopped, pressing her palms flat on the table as the idea struck her. “Wait. What if you had an actual girlfriend?”

“What the devil are you on about?” Liam asked, his face scrunched in bemusement.

“A girlfriend. A significant other. Would that be enough to get Killian to back off?”

“Probably, but I’ve no intention of -”

“We’ll just fake it,” Emma interrupted with a casual shrug. 

“Fake what?”

“A relationship. You and me. We know each other well enough to pull it off.”

“Emma, he knows about you. He knows you’re my roommate. He’s never going to buy it.”

“Because people who live together never get  _ together  _ together? Have you never seen a made-for-TV movie?” Liam rolled his eyes melodramatically, but Emma pressed on. “Or am I not good enough to be your fake girlfriend?” She asked with an accusing arch of her brow.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” he grumbled. “He’s going to wonder why I never mentioned before that I’m shagging my roommate.”

Emma pursed her lips in thought. “So, just tell him that you were keeping it quiet because it’s still a new thing and you didn’t want his meddling arse getting involved.”

“Well, that sounds…” Liam raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Actually that sounds exactly like me. I didn’t tell him about Ar- that is, about my last girlfriend until we’d been dating a full two months.”

“See? We can totally pull this off. Just a little bit of pretending and you get to live in peace for months until we ultimately stage our mutual and amicable break up and decide to remain as friends.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Swan?” he asked, gratitude coloring his voice.

“Of course, I’m sure. Killian will only be in town for the weekend, right? It's just a couple of days. How bad could it be? Let me do this for you, Jones. It’ll be fine,” Emma reassured him with a pat on the shoulder.

“Very well then.” Liam nodded and schooled his features into a serious expression. “Emma Swan, will you be my fake girlfriend?” he asked, bowing his head and placing a hand over his heart in supplication.

“I’d be honored, Liam Jones,” Emma answered, adopting his solemn tone even as her eyes shone with mirth. “Now, please go get your girlfriend a pop tart.”


	2. The Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to throw Killian into the mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are three separate POV's in this chapter: Killian, Emma and Liam in that order. There's some chronological overlap in Killian and Emma's sections, but hopefully this will still all make sense. And if it doesn't, shoot me a message or leave a comment and I'll try to help out!

Killian noticed instantly the way the cute little blonde maitre d’s eyes lit up the moment Liam walked through the door behind him. Perhaps  _ she’s _ the reason his brother had been so cryptic ever since he’d arrived this afternoon? Killian had offered, as he always did of late, to take Liam out on the town for the evening, but Liam had distinctly demurred, insisting instead that they go out to dinner with his flatmate. When Killian had pressed him as to why he’d rather have a meal with his flatmate whom he sees literally every day than to take the far rarer opportunity of having his devilishly handsome brother play wingman for him with the local female population, Liam had awkwardly muttered something about “explaining it later” and changed the subject. 

But this?  _ This  _ could easily explain it. Killian smirked to himself with fraternal pride as he took in the way the maitre d devoured his brother with her gaze. Perhaps Liam had finally found himself a lass and a bit of happiness and… no. As Killian turned his attention to his brother, it became obvious that Liam was thoroughly unaware of the Cupid’s arrows the lass’s eyes sent his direction. Killian sighed in resignation.  _ Bloody git. This is exactly why you need my interference. _

Liam caught up to him and the two walked together the handful of steps to the hostess station where the maitre d waited for them eagerly. 

“Liam!” she chirped, beaming at him. “So good to see you tonight. Emma called and said she’ll be a few minutes late. Do you want to go ahead and be seated? Or you could wait up here?”

The faintest hint of red crept up the back of Liam’s neck and tinted the tips of his ears as the lass spoke, giving Killian hope that perhaps his brother wasn’t as unaffected as he seemed. 

“We’ll just wait here, thank you,” Liam answered, his hand drifting up to scratch at a spot behind his ear.

_ Oh, ho ho! _ Killian thought. The gesture was one he knew well, though he wasn’t quite sure which of the Brothers Jones had learned it from whom. So the lass made Liam nervous, did she? This was promising indeed. 

No longer able to to keep his mouth shut, Killian stepped forward. Finally drawing the lass’s attention away from his brother, he politely inclined his head to her before turning to Liam and raising an eyebrow at him in mock condemnation. “Where are you manners, brother? I don’t believe the lady and I have been properly introduced.”

Liam cleared his throat, glaring daggers at Killian for a brief moment to Killian’s great amusement, then gestured to the lady. “Well then, allow me to introduce Tink, a friend of Emma’s and the reason we were able to get a table tonight. And this,” he turned, backhanding Killian none-too-gently in the stomach, “is my little brother Killian.”

“Younger brother,” Killian said almost on reflex as he extended his hand to her to shake. “A pleasure to meet you, Tink.” 

She offered him a quick but firm handshake and an amiable smile. “Likewise.”

“Tink,” Killian mused. “That’s an unusual name. Is there a story behind it?”

She chuckled lightly. “I suppose you could say the story behind it is  _ Peter Pan. _ ” At Killian’s befuddled expression, she elaborated, “Tink is a grade school nickname that stuck. I was a tiny little thing as a girl, and with a last name like ‘Bell’, well - my classmates saw fit to name me after the famous fairy. My given name is Rose, but no one’s called me that in ages.”

“And she’s lovelier than either of her namesakes,” Liam chimed in with a polite smile at the lady in question which she returned in spades, before he looked back at Killian with a glower. “Now stop flirting with the lady and let her do her job.”

“Oi! I was just talking to her,” Killian answered indignantly.

Liam squared his body up to Killian’s, leaning toward him to grumble in a low voice. “When it comes to the fairer sex, with you there seems to be very little distinction.”

Killian covered his smirk at the truth in his brother’s words with an eyeroll so dramatic it involved his head and shoulders in the motion. He was suddenly looking very much forward to this evening if Liam was going to be so easy to wind up. 

Just then, the door opened again and a flurry of red, black and gold rushed up to them, babbling an apology for being late in a feminine voice. When the blur of colors finally stopped next to Liam, the red resolved into a smart red woolen coat, the black into a pair of shapely legs clad in dark tights atop sinfully high heels, and the gold… The gold fell in soft waves, smooth as silk and framing a striking yet oddly familiar face. 

The woman glanced between the Jones brothers with a breathless smile, and Killian blinked dazedly at her for a moment before regaining his composure and allowing a slow, appreciative smile to spread across his face. His tongue darted out of its own accord, wetting his lips, and he grinned again as the woman’s eyes raked over him top to toe in cool assessment. Not a lass to be trifled with, this one.

It suddenly hit him why the woman looked so familiar. He’d seen her standing next to his brother in the group photos Liam would text him on occasion in an attempt to prove to Killian that he had not, in fact, become a hermit. This must be Emma Swan, the flatmate. Gods, how did Liam share an apartment with a woman like that without either doing something greatly ill-advised or else spending all his time taking either very  _ long _ or very  _ cold _ showers?

A hard clap on the back from Liam snapped him out of his trance as Liam began to make the introductions. “Emma, this is Killian Jones, the wastrel of a brother I’ve been telling you about.”

Emma extended her hand for Killian to shake with the slightest narrowing of her eyes. He knew he should behave himself - he could feel Liam’s watchful and mildly disapproving gaze on him - and yet… “I prefer dashing rapscallion, brother.” 

Keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he grasped Emma’s fingers delicately, dipping his head to brush his lips across her knuckles. He felt a swelling in his chest (and a stirring far lower) at her small but sharp intake of breath. “Pleasure to finally meet you, love.”

Liam coughed pointedly, and Killian released her hand. As his eyes followed the path of her delicate fingers drifting down to her side, he realized the fingers of her other hand were threaded together with those of his brother. Taking in the sight of their joined hands, Killian tilted his head in confusion, his brows knitting together.

“As I was saying,” Liam continued and Killian’s eyes snapped up to his brother’s face. “Killian, this is Emma Swan. My flatmate and  _ girlfriend. _ ”

Bloody. Hell.

* * *

At 8:15 p.m., Emma parked her yellow Beetle in the lot outside Tony’s, the quaint harborside bistro where her friend Tink worked. She and Liam had decided that Liam would tell Killian about their “relationship” as soon as he got to town, and that then she would meet them later for a sort of “coming out” dinner. She’d been thrilled when Tink had been able to work them in for a table at Tony’s for Friday night - a feat which usually required a reservation more than a week in advance. 

Unfortunately, just as Emma had tried to leave her office for the day, her boss had dumped a pile of paperwork on her desk, and yeah, okay -  _ maybe _ she’d been a little less than prompt that week about filling out her reports on the bail skips she’d caught recently, but she’d put them off for this long already. There was no reason it couldn’t have waited until Monday. Her boss, however, being in one of her typical hard-ass moods, did not agree. 

Two hours later, Emma had flown home just as fast as her beat-up Volkswagen could take her. She’d showered, changed, and hauled ass back to the waterfront in record time, practically jogging across the bistro’s parking lot to the extent her 4-inch heels would allow.

As she approached the glass front door, she caught sight of Liam, facing away from her and chatting with Tink at the hostess station. Tink was batting her lashes at him and smiling so brightly her face might crack, giving Emma the fleeting thought that maybe the sudden opening in Tony’s packed reservation schedule had more to do with Tink having a raging crush on Liam and less to do with simple luck. Laughing to herself, Emma wondered idly if Liam had any idea how many women in town would just about make a deal with the devil for a night with him. 

Still a bit breathless and spiking with adrenaline - which had nothing to do with the fact that she was finally going to meet Liam’s brother and everything to do with her rush to make the reservation time - she yanked open the door. 

At the sound of the bell above the door jangling to signal Emma’s inelegant entrance, Liam turned toward her as did the man standing beside him. He was slightly shorter and with darker hair, but identical to Liam in that confident, almost cocky bearing Emma had come to associate with her roommate when he was being particularly smug or stubborn. This had to be Killian. 

Rushing up to where they waited, Emma tugged off her scarf while muttering an apology for her lateness. When she finally managed to stand still for a moment, she found herself fixed by two sets of crystal blue eyes (one smiling in recognition, the other widened in surprise), and her words trailed off. Those eyes (all four of ‘em) called to her, pulled at her like a magnetic field. Emma knew intellectually that Liam was an attractive man, but she was so used to seeing him as a brother-figure that his looks didn’t really register with her anymore. The two Jones boys together, though, made a hell of an impressive picture. Suddenly she could empathize with Tink’s glowing grin, feeling her own lips curve upwards as she glanced between the two men.

She’d seen Killian in pictures before, of course. Liam had a few framed around their apartment. Still, there was a huge difference between seeing a person in a 4x6 snapshot and having the full-sized three-dimensional version right in front of you. With perfectly manicured stubble. And sex hair. And bedroom eyes. And…she needed to get a grip on herself. She was supposed to be playing Liam’s doting girlfriend not shamelessly checking out his brother. And, wait - was he checking her out, too?  What the hell?

His tongue did something positively sinful, and Emma’s smile fell away, replaced by cold calculation. What kind of asshole does  _ that _ at his brother’s girlfriend? Casually linking her fingers with Liam’s as a show of solidarity, she gave Killian a thorough once-over, taking in his black leather jacket, tight black jeans, ear stud and trace of guyliner (she assumed anyway - no one’s eyelashes could possibly be that thick and dark without cosmetic enhancement). He checked all the boxes for a stereotypical ‘bad boy’, and Emma decided maybe her previous mental image of him as a pirate hadn’t been too far off after all.

Liam slapped him on the back and began the introductions, so Emma cautiously offered her free hand to Killian to shake. Of course the bastard had to make a ridiculous comment about being a ‘handsome devil’ or ‘charming scoundrel’ or… hell, Emma hardly knew what he said. She was too busy being shocked by the scratch of his scruff and warmth of his lip - HIS LIPS - against her knuckles. Surely the heat surging through her was righteous anger. 

Emma heard Liam cough - probably reminding Killian to keep his lips to himself - and for the first time, Killian’s arrogance seemed to falter. He couldn’t stop looking at Emma and Liam’s joined hands, which shouldn’t have been strange to him at all, unless…

“As I was saying,” Liam’s voice rang out and Killian’s eyes shot up to meet his brother’s. “Killian, this is Emma Swan. My flatmate and  _ girlfriend. _ ”

Killian’s mouth dropped open in surprise.  _ Ohhhhhh… Dammit, Liam.  _ Okay, so maybe the little brother wasn’t quite so bad as she had given him credit - still a shameless flirt, but at least not a guy to blatantly hit on his brother’s girlfriend right in front of him.  

Attempting to stay in character, Emma cocked an eyebrow at Liam and gave him a playful swat to the chest. “Hey, I thought you were gonna tell him about us as soon as he got to town, babe!”  _ Babe? Did I just call Liam ‘babe’?  _ Emma cringed inwardly. “Isn’t springing something like that on him right before dinner what you’d call ‘bad form’?”

“Aye. Bad form indeed,” Killian replied, inclining his head to Emma in an almost courtly gesture of deference before turning a narrow-eyed glare on Liam who glared right back.

“I’ll have you know-” Liam began, and Emma  _ tried _ to stifle her laugh at the Jones brothers’ ridiculous staring contest - the same bull-headed expression on both of their faces - but maybe she just didn’t try very  _ hard _ to stifle it. Her muffled snort seemed to snap them out of it at least. She didn’t try _ at all  _ to hide her laughter at the way they each simultaneously reached up with their right hands and sheepishly scratched behind their ears, the gesture both vaguely childish and endearing.

Tink tapped Liam on the shoulder to let the three of them know their table was now ready, but as she gathered their menus before leading them to the dining room, Emma caught a confused and almost wounded expression on her friend’s face.  _ Shit. _ She made a mental note to call Tink and explain this whole crazy situation first thing tomorrow morning.

* * *

As they wove through the other tables to reach their destination, Liam felt a pang of regret that Tink had overheard him introduce Emma as his girlfriend. It’s not that he thought she’d be bothered whether he was dating Emma or not. Surely that lass had her choice of any number of suitors. Rather, he had hoped no one outside of Killian would have to hear that bit of subterfuge, and now, knowing that Emma and Tink were good friends, Emma was sure to explain to Tink all about their little scheme, and he couldn’t stomach the idea that Tink might think him a dishonest man. Dishonesty was the worst form of all, but surely Emma could explain the extenuating circumstances. 

Satisfied with that thought for the moment, Liam noticed that Tink had lead them to a cozy little booth next to the large windows overlooking the harbor. It was a splendid view - he always found the moonlight over the water to be calming - but the table… Well, he understood matters of ambiance as well as the next man, but this was certainly going to be close quarters. With his height and Killian’s gangly legs, the three of them were like to be kicking the hell out of each other throughout their meal. 

Still, he would in no way seem ungrateful to Tink by asking for a different table. Goodness only knew what lengths she had gone to procure this one for them on short notice. She really was a thoughtful person and a good friend to Emma to do it. He made a mental note to make a point of thanking her if he happened to run into her tomorrow at Granny’s when he stopped by on his lunch break. It was a fine coincidence that he and Tink seemed to often have their lunch breaks at the same time lately and both shared a taste for Granny’s brand of comfort food. He’d become quite happily accustomed to seeing her there several times a week. 

Liam folded himself into the booth, angling his legs to the side so that he wouldn’t kick the opposite bench. Emma slid in next to him, gracing him with a warm smile and he pressed a quick kiss to the apple of her cheek. Speaking of lasses whom he owed a debt of thanks, he’d certainly be beholden to Emma for quite some time for this. He thought the ruse was going well, actually, despite his little brother’s reflexive need to charm the knickers off of every woman he met. The casual gestures of affection and familiarity between him and Emma felt comfortable enough that he was certain they must look natural. Any excessive public displays of affection would be an immediate tip-off to Killian that something was amiss. Liam was perhaps not the most demonstrative person after all.

Emma arched her back to try to wiggle out of her coat, and thankfully Killian leaned down to assist her. Perhaps all those years of attempting to knock some idea of being a gentleman into Killian’s thick skull had paid off after all. Oh, now he was being a bit unfair, still sore about Killian’s earlier flirtation. He knew his brother was a gentleman and a good man at heart, despite not always approving of his life choices. And God knew Liam would fight anyone who dared to hurt Killian. It would forever be the Brothers Jones against the world… and occasionally against each other. 

Killian removed his own coat as well, that bloody motorcycle jacket that he never went anywhere without, and tossed it casually on the bench seat opposite Liam and Emma before taking a seat himself in his typical sprawled position - a posture he’d heard Emma refer to as ‘manspreading’. Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, Killian began his interrogation straight away.

“So, what this about Liam finally getting a proper girlfriend then? I’m expecting a ripping tale since I’ve been made to wait this long to hear it.”

His attention was fully focused on Emma, obviously directing the question to her, and bless her if she didn’t miss a single beat. “I don’t know how ‘ripping’ this is, but Liam and I got along really well from pretty much the moment he moved in.” Emma glanced up at Liam coyly, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Aside from a few disagreements on housekeeping methods, that is.”

Liam crossed his arms over his chest and grinned down at her fondly. “Meaning that I employed methods of keeping the house and you didn’t, love?”

Emma gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Yeah, that. Anyway, we were fast friends. So one night we were playing some stupid drinking game while watching Game of Thrones and got pretty hammered. I planted a kiss on him and then immediately fell asleep on his shoulder. It got weird, as those things do, and we tried to avoid each other for a week. But it’s really hard to avoid someone when they’re just right there in front of you all the time. So finally - and soberly - I kissed him again, and well… here we are.”

“And I couldn’t be happier.” Liam smiled at Emma and wrapped an arm around her shoulders giving her a squeeze. It had been a perfect delivery. The story exactly as they’d rehearsed earlier in the week. Nothing elaborate. Simple and plausible. No wonder Emma was so good at catching her bail skips - she was quite the little actress. 

“But when was this?” Killian pressed. “I mean the first kiss - the drunken one?”

“About a month ago,” Liam answered, tilting his head at his brother’s skeptical tone. “What are you getting at?”

“So then right before the last time you came down to visit me in Boston.” Killian paused and Liam nodded in confirmation. “Well, that would explain why you were being such a bloody prat that weekend. I suppose I thought you were still mooning over Ariel, when it was really your own flatmate you were pining for. I apologize, brother, I wouldn’t have pushed so hard to make you go out to the pub if I’d known you had such a lovely lass waiting for you at home.”

A nervous chuckle bubbled up Liam’s throat and he had to stop himself from reaching to scratch behind his ear. Emma must have felt his fingers twitch against her shoulder because she crossed an arm over her chest to place her hand over his. He glanced over at her and she looked up at him reassuringly. “Aye, that I did,” he finally answered.

They were all saved from any further awkwardness by the appearance of their waitress asking for their drink orders - a great stroke of luck as they all seem to be in dire need of a cocktail. After a top shelf rum for he and Killian and a whiskey and Coke for Emma, the conversation began to move more fluidly. 

Emma regaled them with stories of a few of her more outrageous captures - none of which were new to him, but he did love to see the pride in her eyes as she told them. The entrees arrived and Liam countered with humorous tales from his and Killian’s youth. If most of them happen to feature his little brother in an embarrassing predicament, well - what are big brother’s for?

At first Emma had been practically crying with laughter and Killian’s ears turned seven shades of pink, but at some point something shifted in Emma’s demeanor. She laughed less heartily, seemed to be greatly distracted by something, and kept shooting rather inexplicable glances in Killian’s direction. Her own face and neck appeared to be reddening as well, though for the life of him Liam couldn’t think why  _ she _ would be flushed. That is, until - 

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Emma snapped angrily.

“What?” Both Joneses responded in unison, sitting bolt upright.

Emma spoke to Liam, but kept her fiery gaze on Killian. “You know I was ready to give him a second chance after he practically eye-fucked me when I first walked in the door, because he didn’t know I was your girlfriend then. But  _ now _ he’s trying to play footsies with me under the freaking table!” 

Killian’s jaw flapped open and shut like a codfish for a moment, before his expression shifted to blazing indignation. “I bloody well was  _ not! _ What on earth are you on about woman?”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “You mean to tell me you just accidentally kept grazing my leg with your foot  _ that _ many times?”

Killian slumped back in his seat with a muttered curse and ran a hand through his already messy hair, still clearly angry, but with a hint of guilt coloring his expression.

Liam leaned forward on an elbow and fixed his brother with a hard stare. “Killian? Care to explain?”

Killian pressed his hand to his forehead, exhaling heavily. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and moderated, but an undercurrent of irritation still pervaded. “I was aiming for you, you wanker. I was trying to kick your bleeding shins for telling those stories about me, but there’s no room under this bloody table, and I may have nudged Emma’s leg a time or two trying to figure out where your shin even was.” Killian pulled back to look underneath the table. “And now I see your leg was taking the coward’s way out and  _ hiding behind a lady’s _ .” He finished with a derisive smirk. 

Liam was about to scoff at this until he looked down himself and realized that Killian was in fact correct. In an attempt to fit his six-foot frame into the booth, he’d managed to tuck his right foot up under the edge of the bench seat with Emma’s legs over and in front of it.

He huffed a laugh and looked over at Emma to show her, but the look on her face shut him up immediately. She looked - well, he didn’t bloody know how to label it. He might have called it embarrassment, but that didn’t make any sense. Her eyes were widened almost comically, and her nose and cheeks were redder than he’d ever seen them. Liam couldn’t tell if this was simply the after effects of her anger or if there was some other emotion at play. But what would she have to be ashamed of? She’d been more or less defending Liam from what she thought was attempted cuckoldry by his own brother. Surely, this would only further the desired illusion of her as a loyal girlfriend.

Still, they’d gathered a bit of an audience among the other dining patrons, so perhaps it was best to call it a night and go home. “Love, why don’t I go collect the check and we can head back to the apartment. I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one evening, aye?” Liam glanced between Emma and Killian, who seemed to be doing their damndest to avoid eye contact with the other, and each nodded at him in assent. 

The bill paid, the three of them walked to the parking lot in silence, Emma and Killian each still pretending the other didn’t exist. A right pair of naughty school children the both of them. Fine then. He’d practically raised Killian from the time his brother was eleven and Liam only eighteen. Wayward children he could handle. 

They reached Emma’s car, and Liam sidled up next to her just as she pulled her keys out of her bag. He spun her quickly toward him, catching her off guard with a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. Nothing passionate about it - the kind of kiss one would give to their favorite great aunt - but it was enough distract her so that he could snatch the keys out of her hand.  _ Ha! Killian’s not the only dashing rapscallion in the family. _

“There now,” Liam answered cheekily to Emma’s annoyed huff. “The two of you are the most important people in my life, and besides that, we’re about to spend the weekend all under one roof. Make nice with each other and I’ll give you the keys back. Otherwise, I’ll leave your stubborn arses here.”

Liam chuckled at their synchronized eyerolls, but both seemed to relent quickly. 

Emma was the first to speak. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about you.”

“‘Salright, lass. I suppose I didn’t make the best first impression. I’m just glad that Liam has finally found a bit of happiness, and with someone who’s willing to fight for him no less. Even if I did wind up on the receiving end of all that -” Killian raised an eyebrow and his lips tipped up into a smirk. “- _ ferocity _ .”

Emma rolled her eyes again, but Liam could tell there was amusement behind it this time. He pulled her into a hug and she raised up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. When he released her she looked up at him, head cocked to the side and very deliberately turned her palm up.

“My keys?”

“Ah. Right,” Liam answered, handing them over. Once Emma was settled safely in her car, the engine running, he tapped a goodbye on her driver’s window with a “See you at home, love.”

She pulled away from the curb, and as he and Killian moved toward Liam’s vehicle, he felt Killian’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Well, I suppose that could’ve gone better,” Killian said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Aye. I suppose so,” Liam agreed, laughing as well. 

As they walked together in companionable silence, Liam added in his own mind:  _ And after that little speed bump, surely the worst is over now. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested in hearing her side of the story, a little bit of the footsie incident from Emma's perspective will be in the next installment (and yeah - this is probably going to be 4 chapters instead of 3. I like to use all the words).  
> Thanks again to captainswannl29 for the read-through!


	3. The Mess

Emma scrunched her eyes shut - not that it made much of a difference in her nearly pitch dark bedroom - and silently recited to herself the list of names of new skips she had to start tracking down in the coming week, hoping that the monotony of the exercise would trick her brain into finally going to sleep, even though she knew it was useless. 

It wasn’t because of what had happened at dinner, although maybe she was still stewing ( _ obsessing _ ) about that a little bit ( _ a lot _ ). Actually, the awkwardness from that situation had all but dissipated after they’d gotten back to the apartment. Emma had put on a pot of decaf, and she, Liam and Killian talked until nearly midnight. 

Killian proved to be far more than the ‘wastrel’ Liam had painted him to be. ( _What the hell is a wastrel anyway?_ ) In fact, Emma found him to be articulate, funny, well-read. He had all kinds of stories about the different places he’d traveled negotiating contracts for an import/export business, and he told them with dramatic flair and a twinkle in his unfairly blue eyes. For the first time in years, Emma was actually considering _using_ her vacation days so she could see a few of the wonders he described. Of course, she wasn’t thinking about what it would be like to see those sights _with Killian_. That would be ridiculous.

Maybe despite her initial reaction to him, Killian was actually kind of okay. She  _ might _ even concede that she liked him. A little. Which only added to her horror at how she had behaved earlier. Even now, hours later, she can feel her face flush all over again just thinking about it.

No one had ever looked at her the way Killian did when he kissed her hand. It sent odd little prickles all over her skin and made her stomach do some kind of flippy thing, so of course her hackles raised immediately. Only natural. Honestly, it had felt completely different from her usual internal ‘creep detector’ going off, but still. 

It happened again - the tingles and shivers - when he had helped her remove her coat, his fingers brushing gently against her shoulder in the process. He’d been too close. So close that for a moment, she could feel his body heat, breathe in his scent of soap and leather and clean laundry. He had to be doing it on purpose, trying to throw her off by making her feel all fluttery inside. 

She briefly considered that maybe he was testing her. Obviously this man knew the effect he had on women. Maybe he wanted to know just how loyal his brother’s new girlfriend was. If her head could be turned by a stupidly attractive face and a tight pair of jeans. Good god, those jeans. When Killian had turned aside to remove his own jacket, she’d really gotten an eyeful. 

Then he’d tossed the jacket on the seat, and it was the first time Emma had really noticed the prosthetic Killian wore in place of a left hand. She knew about it. Liam had mentioned before something about a car accident a few years ago. It didn’t seem to be any kind of hindrance to him really, and Emma had the sense not to ask about it. Besides, it was really hard to focus on something like a prosthetic hand when Killian was looking at her with those damn expressive eyes, and his tongue was doing that  _ thing _ it does again.

And then during their meal, well… he just _kept_ _looking_ at her, his eyes fixed on hers more often than not. Not that she was looking back at him. And he listened to her, really listened - like he actually cared about her crazy bail skip catching stories. So, no then. Not testing her. His interest seemed, well, genuine. Which was totally wrong, right? She was supposed to be Liam’s girl, and Killian was NOT supposed to be looking at her like that ( _and she was NOT supposed to be kind of maybe liking it_ ). So yeah, maybe when she felt the toe of his boot nudge and graze the side of her calf, felt the heat rising in her body from the point of contact up across her chest, neck and into her face, she had assumed that he was hitting on her, and getting angry at Killian was way easier than dealing with any other feelings or thoughts she might have been having. 

So, she’d snapped at him, making an ass of herself and embarrassing all three of them in the process. Of course it hadn’t been about her. Of course he was trying to get at Liam for being a stereotypical big brother. Killian was just a flirtatious guy, and he had only been being attentive to her out of respect for Liam. How freaking vain was she to think that he  _ wanted _ her?

Emma curled in on herself under the sheets and smushed her face into her pillow at the memory. But no, that wasn’t what was keeping her awake right now, humiliating as the situation had been. Her insomnia was all due to one very significant flaw in her and Liam’s planning for this little charade of theirs. Somehow, for all the prep work she and Liam had done to ready themselves to play a believable couple, they had never given a single thought to the sleeping arrangements. 

It was lucky, really, that Liam was the type to give up his room to an overnight guest. He’d already put Killian’s luggage in there before they’d left for the restaurant. She supposed Liam had intended to sleep on the couch or something while Killian took his bed. That probably fell under the heading of ‘good form’. Whatever. 

Didn’t make it any less weird when Killian bid them good night, insisting that they needn’t keep him company, that he’d just stay up and watch a bit of ‘telly’ for a while,  _ and then shooed Emma and Liam both toward Emma’s bedroom. _ Because they’re boyfriend/girlfriend. Of course they sleep in the same bed. 

Emma hoped they played off Liam’s stammering and her blush as either a sign of good manners at not wanting to neglect a houseguest or maybe some kind of American prudery on Emma’s part. She could hardly be bothered to worry about that right now, when her roommate was in  _ her _ room in  _ her _ bed wearing nothing but his undershirt and boxers and  _ snoring louder than those effing power tools he loves so much! _

Nope. No, this was too weird. Liam was being very good about staying way the hell over on his side of the bed (thank God), and it  _ had _ been her who insisted that he share the bed rather than sleeping on the floor like he’d offered. Emma sighed heavily. Nuh-uhn. Sleep wasn’t about to happen anytime soon. She needed some hot chocolate and mindless late night TV and to calm the hell down.

She looked over at the soft blue glow of her alarm clock. It was nearly 2:00 a.m. She listened as best she could over and between Liam’s snores, but couldn’t make out the sound of the living room TV. Surely Killian was sound asleep in Liam’s room by now. Why wouldn’t he be?  _ Not like he’s reliving the way he over-reacted and falsely accused his roommate’s brother of being a jerk and made a scene in a nice restaurant. Nope. That would be me.  _

She slunk out of bed, careful not to wake Liam, and slid her feet into her favorite fuzzy slippers.  _ Stealth mode: engaged _ . Padding her way across the bedroom, she cracked open the door and made a quick survey of the living room, noting the closed door of Liam’s room on the far side of the common space.  _ Coast: clear. _

A few minutes later, hot chocolate in one hand, remote control in the other, Emma settled down on the couch to watch some cheesy old movie. Which was great. Perfect even. Until the first commercial break, at which point her mind began to wander, and as it wandered, it began to whisper to her. 

_ You don’t really believe that was anger you were feeling earlier, do you?  _ Emma told her brain to shut up.  _ Girl, please. That man is gorgeous. And smart and interesting and-  _ Emma clicked the volume on the TV a notch higher, and tried being deeply interested in the commercial for car polish that was playing. The Beetle could use a good wax.  _ So could your bikini line. Better trim the hedges, since you seem to be planning on having a visitor in the neighborhood again… _

“Mind if I join you, Swan?” 

Emma startled, her body tensing so hard she practically levitated off the couch. She turned, wide-eyed to see Killian standing at the doorway to Liam’s room. His hair was even more rumpled than before, as though he’d been dragging his hand through it. His prosthetic was gone, his left arm simply ending just above the wrist, and for a moment Emma felt as though she were getting far too personal a view - like reading someone’s diary. Gone, too, were his ear stud and heavy rings, the only remaining jewelry a long silver chain that disappeared into the v-neck of his grey t-shirt. The form-fitting jeans had been swapped for a pair of flannel pajama bottoms with tiny sailboats on them. He looked softer, younger. Completely edible. 

_ Oh, holy hell. _

Emma didn’t know how long she sat there, struck mute as much by Killian’s sudden presence as by the truly unfortunate realization that she was seriously, seriously attracted to her roommate’s brother. The very same brother she was supposed to be trying to convince that she was Liam’s  _ girlfriend _ . The pause had to be substantial though, as she noticed Killian shuffling self-consciously awaiting her answer.

“Ah, sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you there.” Killian gave her a small apologetic smile.

Finally, Emma’s brain got her mouth to work. “Uh, no. No, it’s fine. I hope I didn’t wake you up. Is the TV too loud?” She reached for the remote where it had fallen on the floor.

“Not at all, lass. I couldn’t really sleep.” He paused, a slight inexplicable bit of pink tinting the tips of his ears. “Strange place and all. But, I heard the telly switch on, and saw you there on the sofa and thought perhaps insomnia loves company?”

Emma smiled despite the nervousness tightening her chest as she sat up straighter, remote in hand once again. She stuck her arm over the back of the couch offering the remote to Killian, and raised her eyebrows at him in invitation. “Well, come on then. Maybe you can find something better to watch.”

He grinned in response, reaching out to take the remote from her hand. His fingers brushed against hers, and this time Emma could not deny - even to herself - the spark of electricity she felt at his touch. She couldn’t look up at him, too afraid he’d read it in her face, so she kept her eyes on his arm. From her vantage point, she had an upclose view of the tattoo marking the inside of his forearm - a blood red heart scrolled across with the name ‘Milah’ and pierced through by an ornate dagger. Interesting. Liam had never mentioned a Milah. 

Emma heard a soft hitch in Killian’s breath, whether because she was staring at his tattoo or because her hand had as yet failed to actually release the remote control to him, she wasn’t sure. Nonetheless, the sound reminded her fingers to pop open, and a second later, Killian was walking around the end of the couch to join her. Emma scooted over to the far right end and grabbed a throw pillow to clutch over her stomach as a physical reminder of the boundaries between the two of them. 

For his part, Killian moved to sit a respectable distance away, but paused, bobbing his head to indicate her empty mug on the coffee table. “I see you’ve already indulged in your libation of choice. What’s your poison, Swan? I’d be happy to fetch you another.”

“Oh.” Emma glanced down at the mug as if she’d never seen it before. “Right. No, it’s just hot chocolate,” she answered, but quickly added, “But you sit down. You’re the guest here. I’ll get it.” Emma stood, letting the throw pillow in her lap fall to the floor. She snatched the mug off the table and turned toward the kitchen. “And is there anything I can get for y-”

Her words cut off as Killian gently grasped her wrist and tugged her back toward the couch. “Allow me, lass. I insist. It’s the very least I can do in return for your kind hospitality this weekend.”

Emma chuckled at that, raising an eyebrow at Killian as she cracked a wry smile. “Right. The kind of hospitality where I yell at you and ruin dinner?”

Killian grinned back, letting go of her wrist to take the mug from her other hand. “Aye. That kind. Though I’d hardly say dinner was completely ruined. Liam’s attempts to humiliate me notwithstanding, I had quite an enjoyable evening tonight.” He leaned closer and gave her a wink. “When you weren’t yelling at me.”

Emma scoffed and flopped herself back down on the couch, but she couldn’t quite keep the smile off her face. Killian seemed to take this as an acquiescence, and headed toward the kitchen. She could hear him opening cabinets and the clank of ceramic on the granite countertop.

Craning her neck to peer over the back of the couch at him, Emma asked, “Need any help finding anything?”

“Oh, I’m quite familiar with Liam’s organizational system. I’d be willing to wager - ah! There it is. Right next to the pop tarts. So at least some of what Liam told me about you appears to be accurate.” Killian said the last line almost under his breath, but Emma heard him anyway.

She intended to let it go, but as she listened to Killian’s continued puttering in the kitchen, her curiosity got the better of her. “And what exactly  _ did _ he tell you about me?”

The sounds from the kitchen stopped as Killian apparently froze. She could just picture his hand finding its way behind his ear to scratch nervously. She straightened up to peek at him over the back of the couch again, and her suspicion was confirmed. 

Killian set the kettle on the stove and clicked on the burner before finally meeting her eyes. “He said you were lovely, inside and out. Though I must say his description hardly did justice to the real thing.”

Emma felt a flush of heat rush through her at his words, but she recognized a dodge when she heard one. “Uh huh. And that has what exactly to do with pop tarts?”

Killian pressed his lips together to suppress a grin and took a few steps closer to her, stopping to lean his elbow against the bar separating the living room from the kitchen. “Yes, well, the phrase ‘dietary sophistication of a nine-year-old’ may have come up a time or two.”

Emma huffed in indignation.  _ Oh, I’ll show him a nine-year-old.  _ She reached down to grab the throw pillow she’d dropped, then popped up again kneeling on the couch to brandishing the pillow menacingly. “Childish, am I?” she hissed.

After a split second of surprise, Killian narrowed his eyes dangerously and aimed waggled an accusing pointer finger at Emma. “Oh, bad form, Swan. Liam’s the git who said that, not me. And you should never start a fight you can’t finish.” He moved closer to her and grabbed another pillow off the arm chair to the side of the couch, preparing to defend himself.

She raised an eyebrow and glared right back at him.  _ Challenge accepted.  _ “Back up there, buddy. Don’t make me use this thing. You couldn’t handle it.” She stood from the couch, squaring her body to Killian’s.

He took two more steps closer, now well into her personal space, his eyes locked on hers. Emma’s pulse pounded in her ears, as his teeth drug over his lower lip before his features settled into a cocky smirk.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” he practically growled.

Emma’s breath caught, but before she could respond (either with her own snark or a quick blow to his head), the kettle began to whistle on the stove, making them both jump back, lowering their weapons sheepishly to their sides.

For a few moments, a strange look passed over Killian’s face, if it had been anyone else in any other context, Emma would have thought it was desire, maybe even yearning, but she’d made the mistake once already of thinking that Killian wanted her that way. The darkening of his eyes was probably due to nothing more than annoyance at her for attempting to start something as juvenile as a pillow fight with a relative stranger.

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself, seeming to think better of it. He scrubbed his hand down his face and tried again. “I’ll just get that then, shall I?”

Emma dropped her pillow back onto the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. “Truce?” she offered.

“Truce,” he agreed, tossing his own pillow back onto the chair. “I’ll just finish up in there, and be right out with our cocoa.”

“With whip cream and cinnamon?” Emma asked with a wheedling grin. 

“With whip cream and cinnamon.” Killian returned her smile before turning back to the kitchen, shaking his head and chuckling as he went.

Emma resumed her spot on the couch, and picked up the remote, her heart still dancing a funny little jig in her chest. What was she doing threatening her fake boyfriend’s brother with couch pillows? What kind of a grown-up does that? It was almost like she was trying to flirt with him, but doing it really,  _ really _ badly. Geez, she needed to get herself together. 

Just as she had almost decided to chug down her cocoa as quickly as possible and go straight back to bed, a loud snore resounded from her bedroom, reminding her why she’d snuck out here in the first place. She knew what she needed. Something equal parts distracting, engaging, and relaxing. Nothing worked like the Captain. 

She clicked on the DVR, scanned down the list of titles to the one she wanted and pressed play. Killian joined her shortly thereafter, first settling the mugs onto the coffee table, then reaching behind Emma to yank the throw pillow out from behind her.

“Can’t very well leave you armed now can I?” He gave her a cheeky grin and she hummed doubtfully in response. “So what are we watching?”

“Captain America.” Emma answered, tucking a foot underneath her and resettling herself against the arm of the couch.

“Interesting choice. I thought the point of this exercise was to lull us back to drowsiness?”

She gave a small shrug. “This movie relaxes me.”

That earned her a raised eyebrow from Killian. “You mean you just needed an excuse to stare a Chris Evans for a couple of hours?”

And that earned him a punch to the shoulder. “No!” When he continued to look at her askance, Emma shoved a stray piece of hair behind her ear and continued. “Okay, don’t make fun of me for this, but battle and fight sequences make me sleepy.”

“Hm. And why is that?”

“There’s so much happening on-screen that it focuses your full attention. There’s no room for my brain to think about anything else, so it kind of shuts up for a while. And since usually the reason I can’t sleep is because my brain wouldn’t shut up in the first place, well…” Emma shrugged, looking down to pick at a rough spot on the couch cushion. 

“It just - it helps.” she finished, raising her eyes back up to his.

Emma waited for the laugh or at the very least an eyeroll to be thrown her way, but to her surprise, Killian only smiled softly at her. “Makes sense to me, love,” he answered. “I’ve been known to take certain measures to quiet my own thoughts from time to time. Yours is a bit healthier actually. I tend to use rum.”

“So I’ve heard,” Emma mumbled without thinking. Killian’s face fell at her words and she immediately wished she could snatch them back.  _ Dammit could somebody please get me a crowbar to pry my foot back out of my mouth? _

A second later his expression had taken on a practiced nonchalance, his head canting to the side as he flicked his gaze down to the coffee table and back up to meet hers again. “So. What exactly did Liam tell you about me then? You seem to have had a few preconceived notions.” His words were carefully measured, and Emma sensed in them no accusation, only curiosity tinted with a hint of sadness. “And you didn’t appear to be put off by this.” He raised the stump of his left arm briefly, before allowing it to fall back into its inconspicuous position at his side.

Emma nodded, choosing to answer the second question first. “Liam did tell me about your hand. No details, really, just that you’d lost it in a car accident. Everything else is just little pieces here and there that I put together. He said you travel a lot - I think the words he used were ‘galavanting all over the world’. That you’ve got a girl in every port. And that you think rum and women are the solution to your problems.”

“Whereas he firmly believes that the solution to everything is brooding and self-righteous stubbornness. No wonder you fancy Liam, Emma, he must remind you of your Captain Rogers.” Killian grumbled, gesturing vaguely to the television.

Emma laughed. “Hey! If you’re going to insult your brother AND my favorite super hero, you can get off my couch!” Emma paused, pursing her lips and tapping a finger against her chin feigning serious thoughts. “But, I suppose you’re not completely wrong. About either of them.” She gave Killian a small smile, which, after a bit of a dramatic sigh on his part, he returned.

“Sorry. He’s not completely wrong about me either, though I haven’t a lass in every port. There’s, ah…” he paused, his hand reaching to rub at the back of his neck. “There’s no one waiting at home for me. Or waiting anywhere else in the world, for that matter.”

_ And there he goes LOOKING at me again _ , Emma thought. For a moment his eyes held something she couldn’t quite name, but that felt deeply familiar. It was a look that spoke of loss, of loneliness. She knew she shouldn’t, but as the moment stretched between them, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Who’s Milah?”

“What?” Killian leaned back, instinctively pulling his arm close to his body to cover the tattoo.

“I- sorry, I noticed it earlier. The tattoo I mean.” Emma answered quietly.

“Someone from long ago,” Killian answered, his voice dark and rough. He turned away from her, looking for all the world as if he were suddenly engrossed in the movie they’d both been ignoring.

“That car accident. It took more than your hand, didn’t it?” She spoke the words as a statement, already knowing the answer. 

“Aye,” he answered simply, then forced himself to look at her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But my tales of woe are hardly proper bedtime stories.”

Emma nodded in response. On instinct she moved closer to him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, feeling the need to offer him some measure of comfort. “For what it’s worth,” she began hesitantly, “I know what it’s like to lose someone.”

His smile broadened, a genuine one this time, and a little gleam of wickedness flickered in his eyes. “Why Swan, are you trying to bond with me?” He leaned in, nudging her in the ribs with his elbow.

Emma dropped her hand from his shoulder, rolling her eyes at him for his sarcasm, but she didn’t move back to her end of the couch, and neither did he. A strange sense of camaraderie fell over the two of them, the comfort of kindred spirits. Killian picked up the remote as Emma picked up her now cooled mug of cocoa, and they settled back into the couch cushions. Not quite touching, but no longer intentionally  _ not _ touching.

“What say we watch the good Captain punch some Nazis, eh?” Killian asked, clicking up the volume a notch as Emma smiled her agreement at him over the top of her mug. 

The last thing she remembered that night was the sound of battle blaring from the TV screen and the feeling of something solid and warm beneath her cheek.

* * *

Killian awoke in the grey light of dawn with a crick in his neck, a mouth full of hair and an angel in his arms. An angel who was (rather adorably) drooling on his shirt. He knew he should move. He should’ve moved last night when Emma had toppled over onto him, falling asleep exactly as she’d predicted right in the middle of the movie’s climactic battle sequence. But then, as now, she’d looked so peaceful, that he couldn’t quite bring himself to disturb her.

It was an innocent embrace, after all. Nothing to feel guilty about. They were friends, albeit new ones. He quite liked her actually. As much as he’d teased her about it last night, he did feel as though they had bonded somehow. So friends then. Mates. Chums. Totally innocent. It wasn’t as though she could be harboring anything but platonic feelings for him. She’d made her faithfulness to Liam quite clear at dinner.

When she’d nuzzled deeper into his chest in her sleep, her arm tightening around his waist and a sound strangely like a purr of contentment in her throat, she simply must’ve been dreaming of Liam. The thought triggered an uncomfortable roiling through his gut, and with one last bit of reluctance, Killian finally decided that he must try to slip out from under the sleeping Swan before the growls of his stomach woke her. Coffee. Coffee and breakfast, that’s what was needed. Besides, innocent or not, it would be best perhaps if she didn’t awake in his arms. They’d only just recovered from the rough start they’d had the previous day. No sense in beginning a new day with fresh awkwardness.

As gently as he could, Killian eased himself out from under her, lowering her head onto a small cushion. The very cushion, in fact, that she’d threatened him with just a few hours ago. The memory brought a grin to his face. Liam was a lucky man indeed. To find a woman not only beautiful, but intelligent. Fierce, yet still playful. Strong, yet with an underlying tenderness to her, something he felt honored to have been allowed to see, if only for a second. 

When she’d spoken to him of knowing the pain of loss, he could see the truth of it in her eyes. There had been no pity there, only empathy and compassion. He appreciated it, more than words could say, but their tentative friendship wasn’t ready yet to handle the full weight of his past (nor hers, he suspected). So, he’d teased her to lighten the mood again, and it had seemed a successful ploy.

There would be plenty of time to get to know her better and she him. For the first time in a long while, he actually  _ wanted _ someone to know him. Yes, plenty of time. For surely, Liam wouldn’t be such a fool as to let a woman like Emma get away. The snarling of his innards intensified as he stepped into the small kitchen. Food. Right. Must grab a bite to eat.

His body moved on autopilot as he turned on the coffee pot and grabbed a box of cereal from the pantry, pausing a moment as his eyes passed over the pop tarts. No, Liam would have the good sense to treat Emma well. He was happy for them. Happy for Liam. Setting the cereal box on the counter, he jerked open the cupboard and retrieved a bowl. Happy that Liam had Emma to be there for him, to talk with him, to wrap him in her softness and warmth and -  _ Oh, bloody fucking hell. _

The empty bowl slipped from his hand, clattering loudly against the countertop. Never. Not once in his life had he ever been jealous of his brother. He’d always admired Liam, for years had tried to be just like him until Killian had finally realized that he’d never quite measure up to the high standard his brother had set and gone on his own way. But he’d never been jealous of Liam, not until-

“Wha time ‘sit?” Emma mumbled sleepily.

Killian whipped his head around to see a sleep rumpled Emma stretch an arm over her head, her back arched so as to push the swell of her chest forward tantalizingly. He turned away just as quickly, blinking his eyes to try to clear the image from his mind. “Just past seven, love. Sorry for the noise. I seem to be a bloody butterfingers when I’ve not had my coffee.”

Emma muttered something under her breath that sounded like ‘at least it’s not power tools,’ and soon he heard the quiet padding of feet coming up behind him. Killian resumed fixing himself a bowl of cereal, taking pains not to look at Emma directly - half awake as she was, there was still the risk of her seeing through to his inner turmoil - but in his periphery he watched her pull down a pair of mugs before commencing an impatient vigil next to the still-brewing coffee pot.

“So what do you ‘grown-ups’ eat for breakfast? Because this nine-year-old is ready for her pop tart,” Emma said, and Killian couldn’t help but snort a laugh in response. “Sorry I fell asleep on the movie.” 

_ Does she know she fell asleep on more than just the movie? _ Killian turned, cautiously meeting her eyes. “No worries, lass, you did warn me. I’m just glad you finally got some rest.” The creaking of a door drew their attention, and Liam trudged into the living room, scratching wearily at his mop of curly hair. “Speaking of rest, here comes sleeping beauty himself.” Turning to Liam, Killian called out, “Oi, you lout! It’s ten minutes past sunrise already! Has domestic life made you soft?”

“Shut it, brother,” Liam grumbled, fetching a mug before taking his place next to Emma at the coffee pot. “It’s bad enough I have to go into work on a Saturday. I’ll not have any of your cheek this early in the morning. I didn’t sleep worth a damn anyway.”

_ And likely because I was greedily snuggled up to your lass.  _ Killian felt a tightness beneath his breastbone as a pang of shame sliced through him.

“Well, you could’ve fooled us. You were snoring like a buzz saw,” Emma teased, bumping Liam playfully with her hip.

Killian picked up his bowl and moved to sit at the table. The simple display of affection had sent a wave of emotion rioting through him. He’d known Liam had to work that morning. His brother had told him as much yesterday, but that was before. Before he’d met Emma. Before he knew she belonged to Liam. Before he’d discovered what a remarkable woman she was, learned how her body molded perfectly to his. Before he’d begun to wish with every fiber of his being that HE had been the one to meet her first. Not that it would’ve mattered, in the end. Emma would’ve met Liam eventually, and he doubted he could compete with his older brother even with a temporal advantage. 

Wonderful. Longing, jealousy AND self-flagellation. How was he supposed to spend the entire morning alone with her without making an utter arse of himself?

He was distracted from his dark musings by a ringing phone, and looked up in time to see Emma dash to her room. Killian watched her lithe form disappear through her bedroom door, his thoughts beginning to stray again, only to be snapped back to the present by the sound of Liam clearing his throat. A steaming mug of black coffee had been placed in front of him, and Liam was now seated across from him, making Killian suddenly self conscious of how long he must have been staring off into space (staring after  _ her _ ).

“So. What do you think of my girl, then?” Liam asked, a strangely guarded look on his face.

“She’s bloody brilliant, Liam,” Killian answered honestly, then allowed himself a bit of a smirk. “Far too good for a wanker like you.”

One corner of Liam’s mouth quirked up at that. “And are the two of you getting on any better now?”

Killian fought against the flush that was slowly creeping up the back of his neck. “Oh, aye. We’ve patched it up.” He bobbed his head in the direction of Emma’s room. “Thick as thieves now, us.” He gave Liam a small smile, then took a long sip of his coffee.

“Right,” Liam answered. “Then I trust the two of you can entertain each other for a bit. I’ll get the mess sorted down at the harbour as quick as I can, then maybe we should all meet up for lunch at Granny’s.”

“Unfortunately he’s gonna have to entertain himself this morning.” Emma’s voice rang out from across the room. “That was work,” she continued, holding up her cell phone. “We have a lead on one of my skips, so I’m on stake out duty all day.”

At the pronouncement, Killian’s shoulders sagged, and he chose not to dwell on whether it was from relief or disappointment. Liam stood and walked back to the kitchen, meeting Emma at the coffee pot and pouring her a cup which she accepted it with a grateful smile. 

“Thanks, babe,” she said, kissing her fingertips before patting Liam’s cheek. “I better go get in the shower.”

Killian looked away as his insides twisted once again. He heard her retreating footsteps as Liam called out for her to ring him up if she could still make it home for dinner. 

“I’d best be putting my kit on as well,” Liam added dropping back down into the seat across from Killian. “Mind if I have first go at the shower in the guest bath? I don’t want to get in Emma’s way if she’s in a hurry.”

Killian nodded, and Liam rose from the chair, taking his coffee with him, and giving Killian a fraternal slap on the shoulder as he passed. Liam ducked into the bedroom that Killian  _ should have _ slept in the night before to retrieve a change of clothes, then disappeared into the guest bathroom.

Killian finished his breakfast in solitude, trying to think of absolutely anything that wasn’t Emma and his brother, and above all else forcing away the image of Emma’s graceful form glistening wet under the steamy shower spray. Football, sailing, the export agreement he had to negotiate in London next week. Nothing held his attention for long. Eventually, Emma and Liam emerged, poured themselves each a travel mug full of coffee for the road and bid him adieu, leaving him with profuse apologies and a spare key to the apartment.

Once he was well and truly alone, the introspection began. For the first hour, Killian thought of nothing but Emma, unable to resist indulging himself for a while. Oh, she was a tough lass. And clever. She’d put his sorry arse right in his place straight away, even if he had only  _ slightly _ deserved it. He could hardly be blamed for kissing her hand when he didn’t know she was Liam’s lass. She was a bloody vision in a red coat and he had been powerless to resist the urge to touch her. Besides, at that moment, Liam seemed to have some kind of connection to Tink, the hostess. How was he to know Emma was off limits?

But after that, well…  _ Perhaps _ he’d leaned in closer than necessary to help her off with her coat. He’d told himself he was only trying to identify her perfume, something light and fresh and powdery. And  _ perhaps  _ he could’ve been more careful after the first time he brushed her calf with his foot. He hadn’t been _ trying _ to do it, but he hadn’t been trying very hard  _ not _ to either. The little rush of warmth that tiny bit of contact sent through him was interesting to say the least, now that he’s being honest with himself. A traitorous part of him wondered if she’d been at all affected as well. Oh, she’d felt something alright. And that something had proven to be white hot rage. Gods, he’s a bloody idiot.

Then they’d talked, all three of them back at the apartment, and things had seemed to improve. She’d seemed genuinely interested in hearing about his travels, and maybe he’d embellished a few tales, just to see her smile widen, the flash of her eyes. Perhaps it should’ve been a clue to him, how a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that he’d fancy taking her himself to see the sights he described, if only to see the world anew again through her eyes.

Killian sighed to himself. Even if the whole world were his to give, she wasn’t his to give it to. 

His frustration propelled him off the couch and toward his suitcase. He needed to get out of this bloody apartment for a while, and that would necessitate a shower and proper clothes. He fetched his toiletries and headed to the bathroom to set about the mundane business of readying himself to face the world.

He showered as quickly as possible, never allowing his mind to wander down dangerous paths. As he stood before the mirror, the familiar routine of brushing his teeth, trimming his stubble, drying and artfully mussing his hair gave him something harmless to focus on. Dark shirt, black jeans, and he felt almost like himself again.

That is, until one last check of the mirror reminded him that he hadn’t applied his customary kohl around his eyes. He hesitated for only a second, and in that second his mind wondered if Emma would find him handsomer with or without it. From that one thought his spiral of shame began again.

He grabbed his jacket, phone, and the spare key Liam had left him and exited the apartment, hardly caring where he was going. He reached the street, picked a direction and started walking, letting his thoughts run their course. 

All he had hoped for months was that Liam would find himself some happiness. He knew his brother wasn’t one for drinking and carousing, but he also knew that, if left to his own devices, Liam would never put himself back out there to meet anyone. So, Killian had drug him to pub after pub, playing the wingman, pouring the rum, introducing his brother to woman after woman in the hopes that maybe, just maybe one would spark his interest. All the while, Liam had never needed to put himself out there. The perfect lass was already waiting for him at home.

Killian had meant well. He had tried to do right by his brother, to be there for Liam the way Liam had been there for him after that car wreck had taken his hand and his Milah - a small piece of his body and a large piece of his soul. Killian didn’t know how he would’ve survived those months ( _ years _ really) following the accident if it hadn’t been for his brother’s unwavering support. It didn’t matter that Liam had never approved of Milah, of Killian’s involvement with a married woman. The Brothers Jones took care of each other.

Thus when Liam’s heart had been broken cruelly, Killian had tried to repay the favor in the only ways he knew how. But, Liam hadn’t needed him. Had done bloody brilliantly on his own, in fact. Liam was happy, or at least he seemed that way. He had found exactly what Killian had hoped he would. So, what kind of brother - what kind of  _ man _ \- did it make Killian if he couldn’t share his brother’s happiness? 

The irony of it all was that Emma had made him feel  _ better _ , or rather like he  _ could  _ be better,  _ wanted _ to be better. Like he might actually be worth someone’s while. And for all that, he now felt like an absolute rotter. A jealous bloody fool.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he was unsurprised to see Liam’s name on the caller I.D. It had been a couple of hours now, and Liam was likely back home wondering where the devil Killian had wandered off to. He picked up the call with a terse, ‘hullo.’

Liam answered, his voice gruff and rushed. “Brother, it’s a bigger mess down here than I expected. Someone’s cocked up the whole schedule, we’ve got supplies missing and - well, I’ll spare you the details, but I’ll be here a few more hours. Are you bored to tears with our quiet hamlet yet?”

Killian huffed a laugh. Of all the things plaguing him at the moment, boredom was not one. “I’ll be fine. I’ve just popped out for a bit of a walk. Showing myself the sights, as it were.”

“Very well,” Liam replied. “I am sorry about this, brother. We’ve barely had a chance to speak alone since you’ve arrived.”

“Think nothing of it. I’ll see you later this afternoon, I suppose.”

After saying their goodbyes, Killian resumed his ambling, losing track of the time. He wandered past storefronts, then houses, and finally as he reached what seemed to be the edge of the little town, it occurred to him that perhaps it would be a fine plan to get take-out from the diner he’d passed near the beginning of his walk and bring it down to the harbor to surprise Liam with lunch. His brother surely would need a lunch break after all, and Killian was interested to see the workings of the small seaport anyway. He checked the clock on his phone, and as suspected it was indeed nearly lunch time. He quickened his steps back to the main commercial area. 

A curious sight met his eyes, however, as he reached the diner. Through the large glass windows he could see Liam in the far corner smiling broadly at a blonde lass sitting across from him. The woman’s face was turned away from Killian, and yet it must be Emma. Obviously they’d decided to meet for lunch without him, and on top of that Liam had lied to him about it.

He felt an almost painful tightness in his chest, but before any thoughts could form as to why they would have done that, the woman turned her head, and Killian recognized not Emma’s face, but Tink’s. Killian stopped in his tracks, attempting as best he could to stay out of sight, but unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. 

Tink was smiling at Liam, her lips forming words that Killian could not hear. Her hands slid tentatively across the table, and Liam grinned even wider, clasping one of her hands in his before raising it to his lips. Then the pair of them stood from their booth, their fingers interlacing again as soon as they were close enough, and Tink raised up on her toes, resting her free hand on Liam’s chest as she pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth.

Killian could watch no more of this. He ducked into the alley next to the building so as not to run into the guilty pair as they departed from their rendezvous, his wide-eyed shock quickly turning into jaw-clenching anger. This was Liam, the man who had practically raised him. Who had beat into him the value of good form. Who would’ve boxed his ears for even  _ thinking _ of two-timing a woman. And this was not just any woman. 

_ Liam was cheating on Emma! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh! Any guesses how this is gonna play out? Let me hear from you!
> 
> Thanks as always to captainswannl29 for the read-through!


	4. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What? What's that you say? You don't want a happy ending yet, you want a bigger mess? Cool. Ya got it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We left off with Killian getting an eyeful of Liam kissing Tink. Maybe we should back up a little bit and hear Liam's side of things?

 

Liam awoke to a dark, unfamiliar room and an empty bed. It took his sleep addled brain a few seconds to remember exactly what he was doing in a strange bed and why it was odd that he was alone in it. He grunted, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs and it finally hit him.  _ Emma. Killian.The plan. _

A deep yawn cracked his jaw as he glanced over at Emma’s night stand to check the alarm clock. Just after 6:00 a.m. Technically morning, though the sun hadn’t risen yet. Far too early for Emma to actually be awake, particularly on a Saturday, so she must’ve gone to sleep on the couch. Poor lass. His snoring likely kept her awake last night, and rather than throw a boot at him for it (as Killian would’ve and  _ had _ previously done), she’d given up the comfort of her own bed to try to get some rest in the living room. He really should get one of those mouth-guard things that Emma points out to him every time the commercial comes on the telly.

He hated to wake her if she hadn’t slept well, as much out of courtesy to her as his own fear of her cantankerous morning disposition. Hell, he didn’t much fancy being awake himself today, despite his customary tendencies toward early rising. He hadn’t slept for shite either, his dreams dark and troubled. 

He hated lying to Killian. Hated it more because, at the root of it, the entire reason he was lying was because he was too much of a coward to speak openly with his brother about his broken heart and his desire to let it heal on its own without trying to force the issue. He hadn’t wanted to appear ungrateful to Killian for all his (albeit misguided) help, but wasn’t this charade he was pulling with Emma a far greater ingratitude? Especially since - 

Liam sighed. Perhaps he’d been seeing things, but it had seemed like after Killian and Emma’s initial altercation (possibly even before that), there had been some kind of connection between the two. The three of them had sat about the living room for hours, just chatting away, and Killian had been more animated, his smiles more genuine, than Liam had seen in years. He had seemed like himself again. Had his old spark back. And he’d been sober as a priest on Sunday. Killian was easily the life of a party when he was in his cups - at least until he over imbibed and fell into sullenness - but last night he hadn’t had a drop after the single glass of rum at the beginning of their meal. That would’ve most likely worn off before they’d even left the restaurant. 

Emma, too, had been lighter, less guarded, more inclined to smile and laugh. A particularly rare thing when she was in the presence of a relative stranger. Liam loved Killian and Emma both dearly, and it did his heart good to see them that way. He knew it had nothing to do with him, though. He was the constant in the equation, each of them the other’s variable. And so he wondered. Was it possible? Could his brother and his roommate have finally found in each other the potential for the happiness they each so greatly deserved?

It would be wonderful. And also completely bloody awful. Because now, due to Liam’s own cowardice, Killian believed that Emma belonged to Liam.  _ Oh, gods, I’m a stupid sod. _

But perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. How much could one really tell from a single evening after all? He knew he should speak with Emma about it, and as delicately as possible. Emma tended to be skittish about her feelings, and if he called her out on them too boldly, she’d metaphorically (possibly even literally) run away. So, no then. Not speak with her, but  _ observe _ . They would keep up the boyfriend/girlfriend act for now, and Liam would keep a watchful eye on both Emma and Killian to either confirm or disprove his suspicions. That should do. 

However, if Killian awoke to find Emma sleeping on the couch, the ruse would be destroyed. Liam resolved to go wake her at least long enough to get her back in her own bed. He’d have to act quickly and quietly, as Killian tended to be an early riser as well as a light sleeper. He stole across the room to the door, silently twisting the knob and easing it open. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for having sprayed some WD-40 on Emma’s squeaky hinge earlier in the week. 

Liam stepped around the door into the living room and stopped dead in his tracks, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.  _ ‘Spose that answers that.  _ There were Emma  _ and _ Killian, sound asleep on the couch, thoroughly cozied up to each other. Emma’s head rested on Killian’s chest, her arm wrapped around his waist hugging him rather like a child would her teddy bear. For his part, Killian had his arm draped around Emma’s shoulder, his head tilted down to rest atop hers at an angle that’d pain him in the morning, but he looked as content and at peace as Liam had ever seen him. In fact, when Liam huffed out a small laugh in spite of himself, Killian roused just enough to pull Emma more tightly to him, nuzzling his cheek against her unruly blond hair like a kitten asking to be petted. 

It was all rather adorable, if quite a bit saccharine, and Liam’s heart swelled at the sight of them, then promptly plummeted right down to his feet. Bollocks! What the bloody hell was he supposed to do now? Under normal circumstances he’d have taken great joy in waking the two of them up as obnoxiously as possible (after snapping a pic on his iphone for posterity’s sake), and then proceeding to take the absolute piss out of his little brother for being a sap until Killian threw something at him and told him to sod off. But these were anything but normal circumstances.

Liam ducked quickly back into Emma’s room and shut the door. Obviously, he needed to come clean to Killian, sooner rather than later. Emma would need a proper heads-up in advance, but he could call her from work to do that. Then perhaps they could all sit down like the adults they pretended to be, Liam could tell Killian the truth, and then Killian and Emma would be free to do as they pleased. It was the mature and responsible thing to do, but not…  _ Not this morning. _

God only knew how the two of them were going to react to waking up wrapped around each other. He knew them both well enough to know they hadn’t fallen asleep that way. It would be worse if they knew he’d seen them. Killian would feel guilty, Emma would panic, and the whole opera would go to shite. For now, he would have to hide in this room until he could hear that they were both awake, and then feign ignorance for the rest of the morning. 

Besides, he still wasn’t completely sure they fancied each other, though the evidence he’d just seen was rather compelling. Killian liked to brag about how  _ perceptive _ he is, but Liam had his moments as well. Now that he knew what to look for, he was sure he could suss out the truth of it.

* * *

_Bollocks._ _This is going to take all bloody day!_ Liam thought, continuing on with a string of internal swearing. He’d not talked to Emma yet, but he’d warned Killian he would be later than expected thus prolonging the inevitable. A tiny part of him was glad for the reprieve of a few more hours before what would likely be a painful conversation in which he would have to beg his brother’s forgiveness, but honestly at this point all he truly wanted was to get it over with. Since that obviously wasn’t to be, well… a man had to eat, didn’t he?

Liam clambered grumpily into his pickup and drove back into town. As he pulled into a parking space in Granny’s lot, he decided that after lunch he’d make a quick stop over at the hardware store before heading back down to the harbour. He felt a deep and important need for some home improvement therapy right about now. Perhaps a bookshelf for all of Emma’s ruthlessly dog-eared paperbacks?

As he entered the diner, he was met with a very welcome sight. Tink stood at the counter placing an order. She looked lovely as always, her riot of blonde curls swept up into a knot on top of her head, and he could just make out the rosy curve of her cheek in profile as she smiled at Granny, proprietress and namesake of this establishment. Granny returned Tink’s smile before shuffling off to take the order back to the kitchen and Liam seized the moment.

He called her name and she turned, her smile widening the moment her eyes met his. “Fancy meeting you here, lass,” he said as his fingernails found that spot on the back of his neck that always seemed to need attention when Tink was around. “I was hoping I’d see you today. I wanted to thank you.” She cocked her head to the side quizzically. “I mean for getting us all that reservation last night. I do appreciate the trouble you went to for Emma’s sake, and dinner was lovely.”

Tink nodded thoughtfully. “For Emma’s sake. Right.” She narrowed her emerald eyes at him. “Actually speaking of Emma, she called me earlier today. She told me something rather interesting. Would you want to snag that booth over there, and chat for a bit?”

Liam agreed, cringing internally and mentally preparing himself for the dressing down he was sure to be about to receive. He followed Tink over to the booth she’d indicated and sat.

Before she was even fully seated across from him, he began his explanation. “Now, I don’t know what all you overheard last night, but-”

“As I’m sure you’ve guessed,” Tink interrupted, “Emma told me about your little scheme. I understand - really I do. I’ve an overbearing aunt of my own who’s constantly asking when I’ll settle down with some nice man. But you see…” she hesitated, suddenly seeming less confident. “Well, you can imagine my surprise when I heard Emma introduce herself as your girlfriend last night because I rather thought,” she paused again, looking up at him shyly through her lashes. “To be honest, I’d thought that you and I had been dating for the past few weeks.”

Liam started upright, blinking rapidly. “You - you did?”

“You meet me here nearly every day for lunch. I’m all for believing in serendipity, Liam, but by this point you must have my work schedule memorized.” She shook her head bemusedly. “I just assumed we had sort of a standing lunch date.”

“And then this -” he gestured between them, unable to believe what he was hearing. “This is something you’re okay with? Dating me, I mean?”

Tink laughed lightly, her face breaking into an indulgent smile. “Yes, you silly man. Our lunches are always the highlight of my day. I thought you knew?” She slid her hands toward him across the table, ducking her head to look up at him with a coy little crinkle of her nose. “I’ve a bit of a crush on you.”

Liam couldn’t have stopped the smile splitting his face if he’d tried. All thoughts and worries about his brother and Emma fell away as he looked into the sprightly eyes of the woman in front of him. It had never occurred to him, he’d never dared to hope, but here right in front of him was a beautiful, beguiling lass not only saying that she fancied him, but that  _ she thought they were already seeing each other. _ Suddenly, ‘moving on’ seemed like the best bloody idea anyone had ever had. 

He reached out and took her hand, savoring the delicacy of her fair fingers amidst his calloused ones. Taking a page from his little brother’s playbook, he raised her hand to his lips and felt her shiver as he breathed her name reverently against her knuckles. “I would be honored to escort you on a  _ proper _ date anytime you wish, love,” he replied, lowering her hand, but not releasing it.

Before she could answer, Granny’s voice rang out letting them know that Tink’s order was ready to pick up. They stood, never taking their eyes off one another. Each reaching for the other’s hand as soon as they were clear of the booth. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Tink said with a mischievous grin, then placed her free hand on his chest right above his hammering heart, and raised up on her tiptoes to press a gentle, leisurely and absolutely earth-shattering kiss to his lips. Leaving him standing there stupidly staring after her, Tink turned and moved to the counter to pick up her food then finally exited the diner with a greasy paper sack in hand and a twinkling smile at Liam.

Punch drunk, Liam staggered back into his seat at the booth, swiping his thumb across his lower lip where he could still feel the brand of Tink’s kiss. He suddenly didn’t feel hungry at all anymore, at least not for food. The hell with lunch, and the hell with the hardware store. He needed to go straight back to the harbour to get the mess there well sorted, so he could get home and speak to Killian as soon as possible.

* * *

Killian stormed back to the apartment and began tossing his belongings back into his suitcase. He considered simply leaving without saying goodbye. Liam’s dalliance was none of his affair (he huffed a sardonic laugh at the word choice), but he would not stand by and condone it either. He couldn’t believe his brother would be so shameless as to kiss another woman right in the middle of a public dining establishment in front of God and everyone. If Killian was able to simply happen by and see the two of them through the front window of Granny’s then anyone could have.  _ Emma could have _ . 

Killian didn’t want to even look at Liam right now. How on earth could he face Emma? He couldn’t lie to her, didn’t want to, not even for his brother.  _ Especially _ not for him.

Killian absolutely could not understand it. As much as he didn’t want to hear Liam’s excuses, he needed his brother to explain himself. This was the man who had taken care of him when they’d lost their mother. Who had gone out and provided for the family when their father turned to drink and gambling, eventually disappearing entirely. Who had taught Killian right from wrong, constantly reminding him that he  _ wasn’t _ cursed to be like their father when Killian strayed from the straight and narrow path time and again. 

Liam had always been his hero. A paragon of self-discipline and good form, in stark contrast to Killian’s own more tempestuous nature. Cheating? Lying? Those things were so at odds with Liam’s character that if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it. For that alone, Killian felt he owed Liam the opportunity to tell his side of things. Perhaps there was some sort of mitigating circumstance? Something to make it make sense.

So, he waited, mindlessly flipping channels and getting angrier by the minute. Only that morning he’d been jealous of his brother, his thoughts consumed with Emma’s smile, her laugh, the fire in her eyes. The way she’d curled herself around him, their bodies fitting together as though they’d been built for it. Only a few hours ago, he’d been dreading a long future of watching their happiness, of having her so close and yet just out of reach. Because surely she was the one for Liam. How could his brother - how could  _ anyone _ \- let a woman like that get away. Now, here he sat knowing that Liam had already cocked it up, cast her aside for another. It was unfathomable, and Killian’s blood boiled at the very idea.

He heard a key in the door and stood, bracing himself to have it out with his git of a brother. Before the door had even opened properly, he launched into a tirade. 

“Have you gone completely mental-” 

Killian froze in horror, as the door opened fully to reveal not Liam, but Emma. She halted in the doorway, blinking in wide-eyed surprise before her expression twisted into a bemused scowl. 

“Not that I’m aware of. What the  _ hell _ ?”

The blood drained from Killian’s face. He wasn’t prepared for this. He cleared his throat, glancing down to admire the carpeting as his hand rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“Ah, apologies, Swan. I thought you were -” He shifted his gaze to his luggage where it lay on the floor near his feet. “Nevermind. Actually, I really must be going.” He grabbed the handle of his bag and took a step toward the door. “If you’ll kindly just…” he gestured with his prosthetic to indicate that he wished her to move aside.

Emma narrowed her eyes, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb to block his escape route. “Really? You actually think I’m just going to let you skulk outta here no questions asked?”

Killian dropped his bag to the floor again and exhaled sharply attempting to cover his roiling emotions with a facade of simple annoyance. “I expect not.”

He resumed his seat on the sofa, and - once satisfied that he wasn’t about to beat a hasty retreat - Emma closed the door behind herself and joined him. She turned her body fully toward him, draping one arm along the back of the couch, one foot tucked beneath her.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” she asked, brows raised.

Gods, he didn’t want to lie to her, but perhaps he could simply be vague? “Not particularly, no.” She opened her mouth to object, but Killian continued. “I suppose one could say, it’s a bit of a misunderstanding between Liam and I about something that happened this morning.”

Emma blanched, lowering her arm to clasp her hands in her lap. “This morning,” she repeated.

Her reaction surprised him and he furrowed his brow, perplexed. “Aye,” he replied warily.

Emma sighed, dropping her lovely face into her hand as though embarrassed, which confused him even more until she said, “Oh, god. I know what you’re talking about. It’s-”

“You do?” He asked in shock, but she looked so fragile in that moment he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to her, taking her hand in his. “Gods, I’m so sorry, Emma.”

She looked up at him then, her emerald green eyes searching his. “Killian, no. You have nothing to apologize for.  _ You _ didn’t do anything wrong. This is all my fault.”

“You can’t possibly blame yourself for this, lass. Liam is responsible for his own actions, incomprehensible as they may be.” He ran his thumb tenderly across her knuckles, and her eyes fell to their joined hands as if she’d only just noticed, a curious expression crossing her face.

“Liam is…?” she trailed off, then suddenly her eyes flicked up to meet his, her expression as guarded as he’d ever seen. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Killian hesitated.  _ If she doesn’t know about Liam and Tink then… _ “What are  _ you _ talking about?”

Emma sat back, releasing his hand and wrapping her arms around herself protectively. “I…” she paused, rolling her eyes as a lovely flush crept up her neck. “I assumed we were talking about how I practically molested you on the couch last night. I thought maybe you and Liam had gotten into it about that. That maybe some... “ she seemed to be searching for the right words, “conclusions were drawn.”

So she WAS aware of sleeping in his arms, then. More than that, she seemed to think it a source of guilt for herself.  _ But that’s odd, innit? Why would she feel guilty about that unless… _ Despite himself a slow smile began to spread across his face, which he tried to school into an expression of reassurance. 

“Nothing of the sort, love.” The familiar epithet came to his lips unbidden, as did the teasing smirk that followed. “And I’d hardly call it molestation.”

“Killian. I was wrapped around you like a koala bear on a tree trunk.” Her expression conveyed disbelief, but her posture had relaxed slightly. 

He chuckled at her turn of phrase. “Aye, that you were. But to molest, implies that something is bothersome.” He poked his tongue to the corner of his mouth in thought, and lowered his voice. “So, tell me, Swan: were you  _ bothered _ by our sleeping arrangement?”

Bloody hell, he was flirting with her again, the emphasis he put on the word ‘bothered’ practically indecent. Gods, what the devil was wrong with him? This was hardly the time or circumstances, and even under the best of conditions, she wouldn’t - 

And then her sweet pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, the green of her eyes darkening by a shade. Killian’s pulse began to pound in his ears.

“How about you answer my question,” she challenged. “If you weren’t talking about our ‘sleeping arrangements’ as you called them, what  _ were _ you talking about? What did Liam do?”

He dipped his head in consternation, his speeding heart coming to a screeching halt before dropping into his gut. 

“You didn’t think you could distract me into forgetting, did you?” she asked with a smirk.

_ Is that what she thinks I was doing? Distracting her?  _ “Emma, I’m not sure if it’s my place.”

“I want to know. Please.”

Killian sighed. Not much use in dancing around it at this point. “I saw Liam this morning at the diner. With Tink.”

“Oh?”

“They were…” he gestured vaguely with his hand. “Romantically entangled, one might say.”

“Oh.  _ Ohhhhh. _ ” Her breathing became shallow, eyes darting everywhere except to look at him.

He couldn’t bear to see her look so panic stricken. He had to say something, anything to comfort her. “Emma, I’ve looked up to Liam my whole life. I love him more than anything, but if he’s too blind to see what an absolute treasure you are, then he’s a bloody fool.”

Her head snapped up to fix him with a questioning stare. “You think I’m a treasure?”

Gods, this was getting worse by the second. The absolute last thing he intended to do (ever, really) was to bare his heart to her, but her eyes, her voice… She seemed utterly unaware of her worth.  Truly, had no one ever told her? “Don’t you know how bloody brilliant you are? I can’t believe it to be possible for a man to want another lass if he had you.”

He meant it. Gods above had he meant it, but as Emma grew deadly still, her face drawn and serious, he wished for nothing more than to be able to snatch the words back from the air. Or, failing that, that the ground would open and swallow him whole.

But then she shifted toward him, reaching up to brush the fringe off his forehead then soothing her palm over his jaw. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her body soaking into him, and he closed his eyes, helpless to do anything but lean into her touch. 

“ _ Emma _ ,” he breathed, but the word was stolen by the soft press of her mouth against his. Slow and tentative, but searing straight into his soul until his mind shut down and his body took over. 

His fingers wove their way into the soft golden strands at the nape of her neck, gently pulling her closer, tilting her head to deepen the kiss even as her lips parted for him. HIs senses were flooded with her sweet honeyed scent, the sharp tang of coffee on her tongue, the fevered caress of her hand as it glided down his neck to his collarbone, the tingling scratch of her nails as her deft fingers worked their way inside his shirt to rest over his pounding heart. 

It was everything -  _ she  _ was everything. Everything he wanted and everything he didn’t deserve. 

The realization doused him back into his senses, and he pulled away. Her lips chased his, and as much as he wished to be caught, he couldn’t allow it.

“That was…” she whispered, eyes opening slowly.

“Something I never should have done,” he finished, his voice low and pained. Killian lightly gripped her shoulder and eased her back away from him, before slipping off the couch and gathering his things. He couldn’t look at her, not until he was a safe distance away. Far enough that her proximity could no longer intoxicate him into giving into his desires and kissing her until they could neither of them remember their names.

He was nearly to the front door, when her voice stopped him. “Killian, wait! There’s something you need -”

“I need to leave,” he replied, turning to face her. “I’ve caused nothing but strife since I arrived here. The fact that Liam betrayed you doesn’t excuse me from betraying him. But worst of all, I’ve taken advantage of you. You were upset and vulnerable and I never should have…” he closed his eyes, shaking his head sadly. “I’m so deeply sorry, Emma.” His eyes bored into hers, and he hoped she could see the sincerity of his apology.

Emma opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Killian didn’t blame her. What was there to say? He turned away again, murmuring a “Goodbye, Swan,” over his shoulder as he opened the door and exited the apartment.

* * *

Holy shit.  _ Holy Shit. HOLY SHIT!  _

Emma sat there on the couch dumbstruck, unmoving except for the way her fingers kept tracing her lips over and over again.  _ WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST DO??? _

This was bad. This was really, really, really bad. Not the kiss itself. That was inarguably the best kiss of her life. Which was exactly why THIS WAS BAD.

Oh, God. She should’ve run after him. Should’ve told him the truth and let him be angry with her for the right reasons, not at himself for all the wrong ones. Was it too late for that? How long had she been sitting there like an idiot?

Emma ran to the window just in time to see a slick black vintage mustang pull away from the curb. She would’ve known the car was Killian’s even if she hadn’t seen his face through the windshield. It was the vehicular embodiment of his black leather jacket. Not the point. The point was that she had made a catastrophic error and needed to fix it immediately. She walked mindlessly over to the couch and sank back down.  _ Okay, so what now? _

She needed to think. But how was she supposed to do that when she could still feel the phantom brush of his lips? How did this happen?

She had been so sure he’d figured it out. He was leaving. He was upset with Liam about something from that morning. She was so sure that she’d made such a fool of herself all hugged up with him on this very couch that he’d either a) realized that her ‘relationship’ with Liam was all a hoax or b) had told Liam about it forcing Liam to pretend to be angry to keep up the act.

But then  _ he’d _ started apologizing which got her all confused, and then NOPE. No, Liam had made a move on Tink (which, you know -  _ fucking finally! _ ), but at the worst possible time. And then she’d started panicking because  _ how the hell was she supposed to play THAT out?  _

And then -  _ THEN _ Killian was looking at her like she hung the stars and telling her she was a treasure and brilliant and… And no one had ever talked to her like that before. To her, about her, whatever. No one. Not even the evil ex of whom she never speaks, who had taken her love, her innocence, and (if not for a very kindhearted juvie court judge) very nearly her freedom. 

And the thing is… Killian had meant it. What he said. She knew without a doubt that he meant every word. So, she’d kissed him. And it was perfect. Exactly everything she never knew she always wanted a kiss to be. 

Until it wasn’t. Until he stopped. Until she froze like a statue and let him walk away thinking that  _ he’d _ done something wrong. 

Which led her right back to where she’d started: she needed to fix this, but she didn’t think she could do that on her own. She dug in her purse and pulled out her cell phone, tapping on Liam’s number in her contact list. A couple of rings and he picked up.

_ “Swan! Good. I need to-” _

“We fucked up,” Emma interrupted.

_ “Straight to the chase then. Alright. How did we fuck up?” _

“Killian saw you with Tink,” she answered, “Which, by the way, it’s about damn time, but still. A problem.”

She heard Liam’s sharp exhale over the line. “ _ Bollocks. Okay, so that’s how I fucked up. You said we. What did you do then?” _

Emma answered as matter-of-factly as she could. “I kissed Killian.”

_ “I KNEW IT!” _

“Liam.” 

_ “I knew you fancied my little brother!” _

“Liam, this is not helping.”

“ _ It’s mutual, too, by the way. I saw how you were looking at each other.” _

Emma grimaced (not that he could see it) and tightened her grip on the phone until her knuckles turned white. “Liam, could you please stop being a teenage girl for five minutes. What are we gonna do about this? He thinks that you cheated on me, and that I cheated on you  _ with him _ , and that he took advantage of me when I was upset about your cheating and then he just LEFT!”

Liam sighed.  _ “And he’s probably in some kind of self-loathing, brooding snit right about now. You’re right, Emma. We have thoroughly and utterly fucked up.” _

Emma relaxed her grip on the phone and set her shoulders with grim determination. “So what are we gonna do about it?” 

_ “We owe him a good groveling. A phone call just won’t cut it. Swan, we need to get our sorry arses to Boston.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I actually wrote two very different versions of this chapter. The other version had more Jones Bros angst, and almost no Captain Swan. Here's hoping I'm posting the right one! I like it better anyway...  
> Reviews?


	5. The End!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The final chapter of my little one-shot idea that got WILDLY out of hand. I hope you all enjoy!  
> (In writing this, I put a bunch of canon stuff in the blender and this is what came out. You'll see bits of The Brothers Jones, Mother, White Out, and a few more. In case you like looking for such things.)

It was late afternoon before Liam finally made it back home from the docks. He opened the front door to find two duffel bags prepped and waiting in the entryway and Emma seated at the kitchen table, a tense set to her shoulders and a seemingly forgotten mug of coffee in front of her. Obviously lost in thought, she startled a bit at the sound of the door shutting behind him, but as her eyes refocused on him her ‘game face’ as she called it fell into place.

“You ready?” she asked, already standing and striding toward where Liam still stood by the door. 

Liam picked up his keys from where he’d dropped them onto a side table, and cracked his neck. “As I’ll ever be, I suppose. Do we have a plan?”

Emma pressed her lips into a thin line and shook her head. “Nope. You see how well our last plan went. Besides, we’ve got over two hours in the car to figure something out.”

The lass had a point. Still, Liam glanced down at the duffels and back up at Emma with a raised eyebrow. “And yet you bothered to pack? For both of us?”

“Just trying to be prepared.” Emma shouldered her bag with a small grunt. “Besides, I already had this one in my car from today’s stakeout. Now grab yours and let’s go. You’re driving.” 

Liam stopped half bent over, his hand hovering above the shoulder strap of his bag, and looked up at her in surprise. Emma rarely let anyone else drive.

She scowled back at him. “Unless you  _ want _ to spend the next two hours folded up in a car with a barely functional heater and that shakes when it goes over 55 mph?”

“Point taken.” Liam cracked a small smile at her which broadened as she rolled her eyes back at him. He then snatched up his bag, and the pair of them left without further adieu.

Despite Emma’s declaration that they had plenty of time to work out a plan whilst on the road, the two of them barely spoke at all, each consumed by their own musings. Liam could hardly have even said what radio station was playing in the background. It was all just white noise to him. 

Finally, as the sky began to darken and the Boston skyline came into view, Liam gave voice to the dominant thought he’d been toying with most of the trip. 

“Emma, I think I should talk to Killian first. Alone.”

He kept his eyes trained on the road, but in his periphery he saw her sit up straighter in her seat, her head snapping around to look at him. He waited for the protest he knew would be coming.

“What? Liam, no. This whole stupid thing was my idea to begin with, and I’m not gonna let you-”

“Yes. You are.” He turned his head long enough to give her his best ‘big brother’ glare, and she glared right back, crossing her arms defiantly. “I deserve to take the blame for this. All you did was offer to help a friend in need. I’m the one who was too much of a bloody coward to simply  _ talk  _ to his own little brother.”

“I owe him an apology, too, Jones.”

“For snogging him?” Liam teased, waggling his eyebrows.

Emma punched him in the shoulder. 

“Oy! Don’t assault the driver.” He heard her frustrated huff, and continued on in a more serious tone. “Aye, I know you do, Swan. But think of it this way - under the circumstances as he believes them to be, the two of us showing up together is odd enough in and of itself, not to mention that having to deal with both of us at once could make him feel cornered or attacked. This is going to be a difficult conversation as it is without immediately putting Killian on the defensive. Let me bear the brunt of this, and you can make your apologies after.”

Emma sighed heavily. “Okay. I don’t like it, but I get it.” Liam’s eye caught the movement of her hand as she shoved a strand of hair behind her ear. “So, what am I supposed to do? Just wait in the truck?”

Liam shrugged. “It’s that or the stairwell, though the latter is quite drafty.”

Emma gave a noncommittal “hmph” in response, and the two lapsed into silence again.

After working their way through the congested city streets, Liam pulled up in front of Killian’s building, thankful to whatever deity is in charge of such things that he found a parking space big enough to parallel park his pickup. He dug a handful of change out of his center console, before getting out and feeding the parking meter. He heard the whirring of a window being rolled down and looked back over at the truck just before Emma’s voice rang out.

“Liam!”

He walked back over to stand by the opened window and leaned his head in. “What is it, Swan?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but whatever words she intended to say to him seemed to die on her tongue. Instead she offered him a wan smile and a shrug, finally replying with a simple, “Good luck.”

He nodded his silent thanks, and pulled back, tapping the flat of his hand twice beneath the window in a gesture he hoped conveyed _ ‘I’ve got this _ ’, then turned to go and face the music.

It occurred to Liam as he knocked on the door that he didn’t actually even know if his little brother was home. As he’d said to Emma earlier, this wasn’t something to be dealt with over the phone, so he hadn’t called to warn Killian of his arrival, nor had he the presence of mind to check the building’s resident garage for Killian’s mustang.

As such, he felt contradictory waves of both relief and anxiety when his knock was met with a snarling, “Who is it?” He didn’t respond, waiting instead with foreboding for the clank of the deadbolt and creak of hinges. To say that Killian was surprised to see him on his doorstep would be quite the understatement. 

Killian’s eyes sprang wide, the red slash of blood vessels clearly visible against the whites under the bright hallway lighting. “Liam? What are you doing here?” he asked, his rum-roughened voice a mixture of confusion and wariness.

Liam looked past Killian into the apartment, taking in the partially filled glass and open rum bottle on the coffee table. From the looks of it, Killian had only just started his second glass. Not ideal, but it could’ve been worse. Liam’s heart twisted with regret that he was the cause of his brother’s pain. Damn it, all he’d done for the better part of his life was try to care for Killian, be strong, be a good example. To do all the things their father hadn’t done. Now look at the bloody mess he’d made.

“We need to talk, brother. May I come in?”

Killian’s shoulders slumped, his gaze falling to the floor. “Aye, I suppose we do.” He stepped aside to grant Liam access to the apartment. “Best get on with it then.”

Liam walked past him, not turning around to face him until he’d reached the middle of the living room. “First off, whatever it is you think this is about, I can assure you it’s not what it seems. I owe you an apology, Killian.”

Killian shut the door and walked slowly and deliberately over to the coffee table. He picked up his glass and took a swig, closing his eyes for a moment and seeming to consider his words before responding. “What I _ think _ is that I went to Granny’s this very morning to pick up lunch for you and I, only to see you - bold as brass - kissing another woman right in front of the damn window. The person you should be apologizing to is Emma. Not me.”

Killian set the glass down again, then straightened, finally meeting Liam’s eyes. “Liam, please tell me there’s another explanation for this,” Killian growled, his temper starting to get the better of him. “How could you do it? To hell with good form, how could you bloody do that to  _ Emma? _ I was right, what I said this morning. She  _ is  _ far too good for a cheating bastard like you.”

_ Says the wanker who kissed this cheating bastard’s girlfriend! Or sort of fake girlfriend… _ Liam thought. His hackles rose at Killian’s accusatory tone, but he forced himself to bite back his knee-jerk response. He sank slowly onto the loveseat cursing under his breath and running a hand roughly through his hair. “There is an explanation,” Liam answered, his voice dull and weary. “Though I’m afraid you shan’t like it much better.”

“I’m all ears, brother,” Killian rasped, maintaining his rigid stance. 

Liam closed his eyes, sighing heavily. _Cards on the table, Jones._ He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and opened his eyes to meet Killian’s glare. “Emma and I are not and have never been a couple. She agreed to pretend to be my girlfriend only for the purpose of your visit this weekend.”

Killian furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand,” he replied, confusion seeping into his voice to replace the anger of a moment ago.

“Sit down,” Liam gestured to the other couch. When Killian didn’t move, he added more forcefully, “ _ Please. _ ”

Killian drew back in suspicion, but did as Liam asked. Once Killian was seated, Liam leaned back in his seat, scrubbing a hand down his face before crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Gods, why was this so hard?

“I’m not cheating on Emma, because Emma and I were never together.”

Killian shook his head, exasperation marring his features. “Then why the devil did you tell me that you were?”

Liam pressed his lips together. Perhaps if he said it all quickly, it wouldn’t hurt as much. “When Ariel left me, my heart was shattered. I know that I was taking my time getting past that, but you better than anyone should know that you can’t rush these things. I know you were only trying to help, but I just couldn’t bear another weekend on the pull. Boozing it up. I wasn’t ready for that. I-” Liam paused, biting the inside of his cheek as the old ache gnawed at him again.  _ So much for quick and clean _ . “I still saw her I face everywhere,” he finished quietly.

Liam’s words seemed to strike a chord in Killian. His expression softened and for a few seconds Liam could practically see the ghosts of the past dancing through his brother’s eyes. 

Yet, the momentary understanding was rapidly replaced by another flare of anger. “That still doesn’t explain this whole bloody charade.”

Liam exhaled sharply through his nose, his own frustration building. “We-” he stopped and corrected himself. “I.  _ I _ thought if you believed I’d found a nice lass, you’d give it a rest. Give me a sodding break for a while.”

“So this is all my fault then, is it?” Killian raised his voice, gesturing wildly. “That’s a bit rich.”

_ For fuck’s sake, I’m trying to explain and apologize here. Must we really break out the theatrics?  _ Liam stood, his expression taking on a hard edge. “I’m sorry, Killian. But I didn’t feel I had any other choice.”

Springing up from the couch, Killian squared his body to Liam’s and jabbed an accusing finger into his chest. “You lied. To  _ me _ .” 

The words came out in a veritable snarl, but Liam could see the hurt - no it was deeper than that - the near devastation in Killian’s eyes. His entire being practically vibrated with it. This was Liam’s baby brother. The one he swore to protect. The one he bloody well came here to apologize to, and what the hell was he doing but being a prideful arse and trying to justify himself!  _ I must have more of dear old dad in me than I knew, _ he thought with a shudder. 

Shame flooded through Liam, washing away his stubborn posturing and he dropped his eyes, his shoulders sinking in defeat. “I was wrong, brother. I made a mistake. I never should have-”

Killian cut him off with a gesture, blinking at him in disbelief for a second. “No. You shouldn’t have.” His voice sounded hollow and foreign. “You should’ve talked to me. You should’ve  _ trusted _ me.” 

Killian turned aside and took one more sip of his rum, then without another word, he strode toward the front door and yanked it opened. Refusing to look at Liam, Killian simply bobbed his head in the direction of the hallway. “Get out.” 

The eerie calm in his voice sent a chill down Liam’s spine. He moved quickly to Killian’s side, gripping his shoulder to force his brother to look him in the eye. “Killian, I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “I am so very sorry, brother.”

Killian eyed Liam’s hand on his shoulder derisively, until Liam released him, and Liam’s entreating gaze was met with nothing but a cold stare. “Fine. If you won’t leave then I will.” 

He began to walk away, but Liam called after him. “Killian, wait! We need to  _ talk _ about this!”

Killian stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face Liam with narrowed eyes and a sardonic tilt to his head. “You know, brother,” he sneered, “I believe I’m going to need  _ you _ to give  _ me _ a sodding break for a while.”

* * *

Emma checked the time on her phone again. Liam hadn’t been gone  _ that _ long, but she was going stir crazy just sitting there waiting. Her stomach rumbled audibly. It was well past dinner time and she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. She noticed a small convenience store just up the block, and decided to get out of the truck for a few minutes to stretch her legs and appease her hunger. 

Besides, strolling down the aisle of brightly packaged snack food and debating the merits of sugary versus salty was a whole lot more appealing than spending another minute fretting over how the conversation upstairs might be progressing. Though she’d understood and (begrudgingly) accepted Liam’s position on the subject, she still felt like she ought to be there to take her fair share of the blame. She wasn’t ashamed for trying to help Liam, but now that she knew Killian better ( _ now that I know what he tastes like - God, what’s wrong with me? _ ), lying to him felt… Ugh, she didn’t know what she thought or felt about anything anymore.

It had started out as such a good day. She’d caught her skip, and landed herself a healthy payday in the process. How had it all gone to hell?  _ Oh, yeah. Right. Kissed my roommate-slash-fake-boyfriend’s brother. That was it. _ She shook herself.  _ Stop thinking about the kiss. _

Settling on sugar, she selected a chocolate bar, paid the clerk, and left the shop. Shivering in the cold night air, she flipped up the collar of her jacket and started back down the sidewalk to Liam’s truck. She was just about to pull open the driver’s side door when the clatter of a heavy door slamming shut caught her attention. She turned around just in time to see Killian Jones striding away in the opposite direction from where she’d just come.

“Jones!” She called out to him, and he must’ve heard her. Even from half a block away she saw him pause, his hand clenching into a fist at his side, his head tilting skyward in what appeared to be a silent plea to the heavens for patience. 

“Are you leaving?” she asked, immediately cursing herself for the obviousness of the question, not to mention how small her voice had sounded.  _ What the hell, Emma. He can leave if he wants to. No need to sound like a disappointed five year old. _

He turned his face just enough to meet her eyes, and jerked his head in a beckoning manner. Emma took it as her cue. As she walked toward him, he moved to take up a rakish pose leaning against the wrought iron fence lining the building’s small garden. Legs crossed at the ankle, hand hitched on belt buckle, generic smirk firmly in place. They may not have known each other long, but Emma could certainly recognize a defensive posture when she saw one. This image he projected of practiced calm arrogance might as well have been a stone wall. 

As she reached him, he crossed his arms over his chest, raising his chin with a touch of defiance.  _ Make that a castle keep, with some of those turret things.  _ Emma furrowed her brow. 

“Where are you going?” she asked in a quiet but firm tone, jutting her own chin just as stubbornly.

Killian looked away as if showing her the direction of his intended travels with his eyes. “Down to the pub.” He turned back to her with a pale imitation of a smile. “I’ve every intention of having a pint or two, then coming home to my  _ empty _ apartment to get a bit of shut eye.” 

His implication couldn’t have been clearer. He wanted them gone. “I take it Liam told you.”

Killian looked away once more, and Emma watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. “Aye, that he did.” 

“And clearly that went well,” she deadpanned. 

That seemed to get his attention. He cut his eyes back to her sharply, all pretense of composure gone. “I don’t wish to discuss my relationship with my brother with someone I hardly know.” 

He flung the words at her harshly, and Emma felt it like a slap to the face, flinching despite her own attempts to remain impassive. He was right. They didn’t know each other. Not really. One night, one heart-to-heart didn’t make them friends. A few kind words, one kiss ( _ one stupid, perfect, amazing kiss _ ) didn’t make them lovers. It didn’t make them anything. Because he left. Both times, he left.

Maybe she  _ had _ fallen asleep on the movie and slumped unknowingly over onto Killian’s shoulder. And maybe she also woke up just a little bit when he’d clicked off the television. Maybe it felt so  _ good _ to be in his arms, that she just sort of milked the whole sleep-snuggling thing a little bit. He hadn’t seemed to mind at the time. She thought -  _ hoped - _ he had even reciprocated. A slight tightening of his hand on her shoulder? A brush of his lips against her hair? Things she should’ve been annoyed about for Liam’s sake, if it hadn’t felt so  _ safe _ . So  _ right. _

But then she’d woken up alone. Whatever intimacy she thought had sparked between them must’ve just been her own sleep deprived imagination. 

And maybe he’d said some nice things to her. Things no one had ever said to her before. So, she’d kissed him.  _ She _ kissed  _ him. _ Not the other way around. And even if he kissed her back, what did it matter? He pulled away. He left. He thought it was a mistake. 

And now here he was, confirming all of that for her. 

He studied her face, probably having seen her flinch, but even as she steeled her own expression, his softened. Emma couldn’t let herself focus on that, though. There was no point in distracting herself with false hope, when the real problem at hand had nothing to do with her own feelings. There was no ‘her and Killian’ - nothing to fix there - but, she’d helped make a god awful mess between Killian and Liam. She needed to say something -  _ anything _ \- to at least try to fix that.

Emma took a deep breath. “Here’s the thing. You’re right. I don’t know you, and I don’t know what happened in there, but I do know this.  _ Liam loves you _ . More than anything.”

Killian barked a mirthless laugh. “Well, he’s got a bloody odd way of showing it!”

For a second, his mask completely dropped, letting Emma see the depth of genuine hurt in his eyes. Before she could think better of it, she was reaching out to him, lightly curling her fingers around his elbow. “Killian, I-”

“Swan, it’s late,” he said gently, not rejecting her touch, but not acknowledging it either. “You and Liam had best be getting on the road. Don’t want you to fall asleep at the wheel.” His lips twisted up into a half smile, but his eyes still held a certain melancholy and a hint of that something else she didn’t know how to describe. 

At the mention of sleep Emma’s mind flashed back to the comfort of Killian’s embrace, the way they seemed to fit together like two puzzle pieces. Instinctively, she moved closer to him. “I know,” she replied, quirking up one corner of her mouth. “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry I lied to you.” Emma shrugged and shook her head sadly. “You know, for what it’s worth.”

Killian closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. “Think nothing of it.” When he opened them again, all Emma could see in his expression was a bone-deep exhaustion. “I was right about one thing,” he continued. “Liam is a lucky bastard to have you - for a  _ friend. _ ”

He pushed himself off the fence, and Emma stepped back, embarrassed at how close she’d allowed herself to get. He turned away from her to resume his trek down the sidewalk, but before he’d gone two steps, he paused, angling his head just enough to speak to her over his shoulder. “I’m glad there’s at least one person in his life that he trusts enough to confide in.” 

The break in his voice nearly did her in. “Killian, no-”

“Tell Liam to lock up on his way out,” he murmured with an air of finality and stalked away into the night.

He needed time. Space. Emma got that. God only knew she couldn’t fault anyone for wanting to run away from a problem that hit a little too close to an emotional sore spot. Didn’t make it hurt any less as Emma watched him walk away without so much as a backwards glance in her direction. But, at this point in her life she was pretty adept at slapping a band-aid over the “everyone walks away from me” bruise and getting on with things.

She made the executive decision that she’d done as much waiting around as she could stand for one day, so rather than go back to the truck, she trudged up the stairs to Killian’s apartment. The door was unlocked, as she had figured it would be. Under other circumstances she might have taken a moment to look around, examine the decor, and get a feel for his living space, but she already felt like an intruder. She didn’t want to add ‘creeper’ to the mix. She just needed to grab Liam so they could drag themselves back to Storybrooke with their tails between their legs.

A quick glance revealed Liam at the kitchen table, pencil in hand and scribbling something on a battered, pocket-sized notepad. _ Oh, Jones. You know he’s not coming back until he’s sure we’re gone.  _

“So, I saw Killian on his way out.”

Liam paused his sketching, but didn’t look up. “Oh, aye? What did he say?” he asked, the calm tone of his voice belying the obvious tension in his neck and shoulders. Emma shut the door behind her and walked over to stand behind his chair.

“Not much.” Emma leaned over Liam’s shoulder and could make out a drawing of what appeared to be a bookshelf, with little notations underneath that must’ve been a supply list. “But I got the distinct impression that things didn’t go so hot.” She moved to sit down in the adjacent chair, cocking an eyebrow at Liam expectantly when he finally raised his eyes from the page. 

“You could say that.”

Emma pursed her lips and nodded once.  _ God save me from brooding Joneses.  _ “Let me guess. You both got stubborn and defensive and it all went downhill from there?”

Liam set the pencil down and tapped the side of his nose with one finger. “In one. Give the lady a prize.”

Emma reached up to swat the back of his head and plopped herself back down in her chair resting her elbow on the table, chin in hand. “So what are you gonna do?”

Liam squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slowly before opening them again. “I don’t know. He’ll be out of the country for most of this week. He hardly answers my calls when he’s traveling when we’re on good terms. I doubt he’d speak to me now.”

They fell into silence for a few seconds each staring at nothing in particular. Emma drummed her fingers restlessly on the table top and had opened her mouth to suggest they head home, when Liam huffed a laugh. 

She glanced over at him, perplexed. “What?”

“For what it’s worth, he was almighty outraged on your behalf,” Liam answered with a sly grin.

Emma scoffed, rolling her eyes even as her pulse began to flutter. “You Jones boys and your good form.”

Liam smirked. “Oh, no. Don’t sell yourself short, love. This was more than that. He went right off on me. Called me a cheating bastard and told me you were far too good for me. Seemed he couldn’t quite believe it was possible for a man to want another lass if they had you.”

Emma felt heat rising in her cheeks and the rapidly accelerating beat of her heart. She tried to hide it, turning away and feigning annoyance at Liam’s antics, but to no avail. There was something she had to know, and she’d just have to come right out and ask it. 

“Did he…” she looked up at the ceiling and tilted her head slightly from side to side, annoyed at herself for how silly she was acting. “Did he mention the kiss?”

“No, he didn’t,” Liam answered gently. “To be honest, I think in the moment he was much more concerned with being furious at me than anything else. There was quite a bit for him to process. But I wouldn’t fret about it, Swan.” Liam scooted his chair closer to her, nudging her in the ribs until she turned back to face him. “I think he quite fancies you,” he concluded in a stage whisper. 

“What are you,  _ twelve? _ ” Emma grumbled, earning her a snicker from Liam in response. “Come on. Let’s get outta here.” 

She pushed her chair out from the table, and started toward the front door. She couldn’t deal with this. She couldn’t deal with fraternal drama, Liam’s obviously misguided taunting, and the stress built up over hours on a stakeout, hours on the road, plus what had  _ felt _ like hours just twiddling her thumbs in the truck. Not to mention she had a stack of new case files waiting for her on her desk come Monday, and…  _ Hang on. _

Emma stopped in the middle of the living room, turning back to Liam with narrowed eyes. “When does Killian get back from London?”

“Next Saturday,” he replied warily. “Why?”

“Jones, I think I have an idea.”

* * *

Killian awoke the following Saturday to a darkening apartment. Apparently the nearly eight-hour flight and five-hour time difference had hit him harder than he expected and his plan to simply close his eyes for a few minutes had devolved into an extended slumber. Bollocks. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight. Not that he’d done much sleeping all week.

To Liam’s credit, his brother had only called him once during his week away in London. Killian hadn’t answered. He was sure Liam didn’t really expect him to from the contrite-yet-resigned tone of the voicemail left. Killian was grateful that Liam wasn’t pushing, that he was trying to give him the space he needed, but at the same time not giving up. 

What was it Liam was always saying to him when he was a lad? A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. It seemed that what Liam  _ wanted _ was to apologize and make peace between the two of them, but Killian wasn’t sure that he was quite ready to hear it. Not yet.

What Killian  _ wanted _ right at this moment was a glass of rum. Not here. Not in the apartment where he’d argued with his brother. He had to get out of this place. 

Killian quickly showered off the last clinging dredges of the miasma one acquires from air travel. He then dressed himself, adding a slightly thicker line of kohl around his eyes than usual in an attempt to camouflage the dark circles beneath them. He grabbed his wallet, keys and phone before slipping on his armour of black leather and heading out the door.

It wasn’t a long walk to his favorite pub down by the waterfront, but he found the chilly, slightly briny evening air bracing. It helped him think. Whether that was for good or ill remained to be seen. He made his way through the streets oblivious to the people he passed, instead over and over again talking himself into and then right back out of forgiving Liam and Emma. Exactly as he’d been doing the entire week in London, when he should’ve been sleeping. Gods, he missed his brother. What do you do when the person you usually rely on for good counsel is the same person you need advice about?

He had to admit on some level he understood where Liam had been coming from. The words his brother said about seeing Ariel’s face everywhere had rung true. Killian remembered all too well the haunting pain of seeing familiar dark curls, a hint of a lost smile, a laugh that was almost but not quite right. How every similarity he found in a new face or form felt like needles in his skin, piercing reminders of what he could never have again. Killian had embraced that pain, feeling it was nothing more than he deserved, using rum to take the edge off when it became too much. Liam on the other hand seemed more inclined to avoid it altogether, to ignore it and hide himself behind a wall of stubbornness.

Killian understood, and yet he was still too angry to let his brother off the hook. Liam had lied to him. Didn’t trust him. For all that they’d been through together, Liam still saw him as nothing more than his wastrel of a little brother. A useless burden to be coddled out of a sense of familial duty. It was humiliating.

Speaking of humiliation, he’d made a bloody fool of himself with Emma as well. She’d lied to him, same as Liam, but the hurt he felt with regard to her was of a very different nature. Obviously, at the outset they were perfect strangers. She didn’t owe him a thing, and so he didn’t feel the same sense of betrayal for her actions as he did with Liam. The problem was that he’d been so immediately taken with her - her spirit, her energy, her compassion. After years of keeping himself bottled up, she’d somehow managed to pop him right open, and the moment her mouth touched his, he was more than ready to pour himself out to her and let her swallow him whole. 

None of it was real though, was it? Real for her, that is. It had been terribly real for him. How was he supposed to sort out which bits were the true Emma Swan? Except that… In light of what Liam had told him, so much of his interaction with Emma didn’t make any sense. Why would she have needed to charm him as she did? To bond with him? It would’ve been more expedient for her to have simply been friendly, polite, and unmemorable. 

But most of all -  _ why had she kissed him?  _ At the time, Killian had believed she was distraught from the news that Liam was cheating. Seeking comfort where she could find it, and he’d been too weak to deny her. Since that was clearly not the case, then why?

The thought tormented him, and he very nearly walked straight past the pub’s door. Chiding himself at his own idiocy, he pulled the door open and in short order had deposited his sorry arse on a barstool. He ordered his preferred brand of rum and settled in for a long, lonely evening.

Which was immediately interrupted by a blonde in a sinfully tight red dress and fuck-me heels. It was all he could do to blink stupidly at her as she made a beeline toward him, and reached out to stroke his arm.

“Hi, babe!” Emma chirped (for of bloody  _ course _ it was she), then leaned in to hug him, her lips ghosting across the shell of his ear as she whispered, “I’m on a job, just play along. My mark could already be here.”

For a moment he was absolutely flabbergasted, but his instinct toward good form kicked in just after, and he bared his teeth in imitation of a smile. “Swan, so lovely to see you,” he gritted out. “So what exactly are we doing now?”

Emma beamed like a high school cheerleader and even bounced slightly, her words at odds with her overly perky demeanor. “I’ve got a bail skip who frequents this place who should be here any minute, if he’s not already,” she gushed quietly, her lips barely moving as she grinned. She traced her fingers over the back of his hand and his breath caught in spite of himself. “Would you mind helping me by acting as part of my cover? Two people talking are less conspicuous than just me by myself, more or less casing the joint.”

_ Bloody buggering fuck,  _ he thought, but he couldn’t just walk away and ruin her operation, could he? What could it hurt after all? At least  _ he’s _ not her bloody target this time. Let some other poor bastard suffer. What’s it to him?

“Alright,” he replied finally. “Shall we get a table then?”

She nodded cheerfully, picking up his drink with one hand and using her other to pull his arm around her waist as she lead him to a table by the back windows. As they walked, his traitorous body stirred in reaction to the feeling of her curves beneath his fingers, his pinky just barely tracing the jut of her hipbone, but he forced all such dangerous thoughts aside.

They took their seats, and she placed his glass in front of him. The sun had fully set by now, and through the glass he could see the moonlight glinting on the waves. They were silent for several moments, neither seeming to know what to say to the other. Emma made a couple of surreptitious sweeps of the room with her eyes, a vapid smile curving her lips. Surely anyone who came close enough could see she was putting up a front, but perhaps it would convince her mark from across a crowded room.

At length, Killian asked, “Did Liam send you?” 

Emma gave him a cutesy shrug, keeping up the flirtatious persona. “I actually  _ am _ here to catch a skip, but he didn’t  _ not _ send me.”

“Why?” he asked, already half knowing the answer.

“He didn’t think you’d listen to him.” She replied as her fingernail once again began to trace nonsense patterns against the back of his hand.

“He was right,” Killian acknowledged, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from scowling.

“Jones, if you can’t look happy to see me, maybe just enjoy the view for a minute?” She bobbed her head in the direction of the windows.

Killian took a sip from the glass Emma had placed near him, and the two of them fell into silence once again, gazing out the windows as the heavens began to reveal their constellations.

“So, what am I looking at?” he asked after an extended pause.

“The horizon,” she answered simply.

“Is it doing something?”

“Not really, I just thought you’d find it calming.”

“It is,” he replied with a nod, annoyed with himself for the tendril of warmth unfurling in his chest that she would have this slight bit of insight into him. He plastered on a smirk and raised his glass in mock toast. “So is rum.” He downed the remaining liquid and returned the empty glass to the table top with a rough  _ clunk _ .

Emma’s facade cracked for a split second, that glimmer of vulnerability making Killian’s guts twinge with regret. But then she grinned at him again, mask firmly back in place. “I was hoping we could talk about Liam.”

Bollocks, this was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight. Not now. Not with her. He shook his head and forced his voice to remain low. “Swan, we talked about this.”

She batted her eyes innocently at him, and he turned away from her, focusing his attention on the view of the darkened harbor.

“I talked. You walked away.” There was a strange catch in her voice at the end that pulled his eyes back to her face. Her lips still smiled, but her eyes told a different story - accusation mixed with a sadness that ran deeper than just one argument, that spoke of a lifetime of being left behind. Her words from a week ago drifted back into his memory:  _ “I know what it’s like to lose someone.” _

“Swan…” he whispered, casting his eyes down to the table.

They were interrupted by a waiter asking for their drink orders. Killian requested a second glass of rum. Emma ordered a Diet Sprite with a lime wedge in a lowball glass, prompting Killian to raise an eyebrow in question.

“Looks just like a gin and tonic,” she elaborated, adding in a little wink to get herself back in character.

_ Right. She’s working. _ Killian took the opportunity to change the subject and asked her about her job. For a while, they chatted pleasantly, or as pleasantly as possible when discussing deadbeats and criminals. Her current mark sounded like a real piece of work. Killian felt a flicker of worry for Emma build inside him, but he shoved it down, reminding himself that she did this for a living and it -  _ she -  _ was really none of his concern. Except that...

Except that every once in awhile, her leg would bump his under the table sending a frisson of heat through his body, just like the night they’d met. Except that it was comfortable talking to her. So comfortable, in fact, that he could almost forget about the strange circumstances that had brought them here.  _ Almost.  _ The waiter returned with their drinks, and Killian immediately took a healthy pull from his glass. As soon as he placed it back on the table, Emma slid the glass away from him, drawing his focus back to her.

Her expression had hardened, clearly back to business. “I just want to know is anything going to be enough? Or are you willing to lose him just to spite him?”

He sighed wearily, propping an elbow on the table to rub at his temple. “Give me back the rum.”

“He’s done a lot of good,” she continued, undeterred. “He’s always been your hero. Yeah, he made a mistake, but he owned up to what he did. Did you ever think that maybe he lied to you because he was ashamed? He’s always been the one to protect you. The ‘strong one’ or whatever. He wants to keep that image. He doesn’t want you to see him as weak or to make you worry about him. He wanted you to be proud of him, not think of him as some broken mess.”

He’d let his eyes drift shut as she spoke, but those last words pierced him to the quick. He cut his eyes sharply to hers. “You mean the way he sees me?”

Emma flinched back in surprise, then leaned forward in her seat, resting her crossed arms on the table. “Stop,” she practically commanded, her voice and demeanor brooking no argument. “You know that’s not true. You’re not broken, either one of you, no matter what mistakes you’ve made. You both just need to forgive yourselves. And each other.”

She leaned back in her chair again and took a deep breath, puffing away a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes. “The thing is, no matter how many times I tell you, or anybody else does, you have to do it yourselves.”

Before Killian could respond, Emma turned away, something by the door catching her eye. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a skip to catch.” She looked quickly back at him, eyes wide as she whispered frantically. “I apologize in advance for what I’m about to do, but just go with it. I swear I’ll buy you a drink later to make up for it.”

Emma stood quickly and slammed her drink down on the table, her face the picture of wounded fury. “So you what? Brought me here to break up with me?” she yelled loudly enough for the whole bar to hear. “Afraid I was going to make a scene, James? Well, how’s this for a scene! I’m gonna screw the next guy who buys me a drink and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

It didn’t take a lick of acting skills for Killian to pretend to be dumbfounded. That came naturally. As Emma stormed off to the far end of the bar - followed by nearly every pair of eyes in the room - he took the opportunity to skulk his way to the men’s room. He needed a moment to collect himself after the oddity this evening had turned into.

Thankfully the loo was empty. Killian turned the tap on the sink and splashed cold water on his face in an attempt to clear his head. He braced his hand on the basin and stared down his own reflection.  _ What are you doing, mate? What are you going to do? _

He turned and grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser, drying his hands and face before leaning back against a graffiti covered wall. The fact was, Emma had a point. Liam was all that Killian had left in the world and it would be ridiculous to push him away forever over this one incident. She was right, too, about him needing to forgive himself as much as he needed to forgive Liam. 

That’s why Liam’s lie had cut him so deeply, wasn’t it? It was less the lie itself, as the reason behind the lie - it hit on all of his insecurities. That he’s untrustworthy, irresponsible, selfish. That every time he actually does try to help someone he cocks it up and makes things worse.

_ But I’ve got a choice now,  _ he thought.  _ I can keep wallowing like a git and push Liam away or get over myself and go talk to him. Talking. What a novel idea.  _

Blowing out a breath, Killian pushed open the door to the men’s room and exited. He looked over to see Emma engaged in conversation with some greasy, Armani-clad prat at the bar. The man wouldn’t keep his hands off of her - brushing a strand of hair over her shoulder, touching her upper arm, the small of her back.

Instantly stricken with a flare of jealousy, Killian had every intention of storming straight out of the bar, but then he heard the trill of Emma’s forced laugh. He looked again, just in time to catch a glimpse of her profile, and he could tell even from across the room that Emma was _clearly_ not enjoying the other man’s attentions. In fact, she looked about ready to snap. 

Couldn’t this wanker see how uncomfortable she was? It seemed so obvious to Killian, that he couldn’t understand how no one else seemed to have noticed. He knew he shouldn’t interfere. This was her job after all, but he’d be damned if he let this arsehole manhandle her, so he strode toward them. 

The man slid his hand down to cup Emma’s shapely derrière. Killian’s vision went red, and he hastened his steps, his lips twisting into a feral snarl. Then quick as a cobra’s strike, Killian saw the man slam face-first into the bar top with Emma holding one of his arms contorted in what had to be a considerably painful manner behind his back. As Killian came within earshot of the two of them, Emma reached down between her cleavage with her free hand, pulled out a zip tie, then proceeded to wrangle the man’s other hand behind his back and tie his wrists together.

“You know, I was going to do this the nice way,” she grumbled, grunting as she pulled the man up by the shoulder and spun him toward the door. “But you just had to get all handsy, didn’t you?” 

_ Bloody hell, that may have been the single hottest thing I’ve ever seen, _ Killian thought _. _ He stood there agape for a few seconds as Emma marched the man to the door, but quickly came to his senses. 

“Swan!” he called as he jogged the short distance to catch up to her and walk by her side. “Can I be of any assistance?”

“Hmmm. I think I’ve got things pretty well under control.” She bestowed a sickly sweet smile on her prey. “Mr. Carmichael here is going to behave himself now, aren’t you?”

The man gave her a murderous look, marred by the blood dripping from his nose onto his expensive suit, but answered with a curt nod. 

Emma turned her attention back to Killian. “I just need to hand him over to Boston’s finest. There’s a patrol unit outside expecting him. Would you…” she cleared her throat, her lashes fluttering as her eyes flickered down then back up to meet his. How she managed to look shy and demure whilst perp-walking a criminal she’d just single handedly apprehended was absolutely beyond him. “Would you mind just waiting a few minutes? I do still owe you that drink, after all.”

Killian pressed the crash bar and held the door open for her and her quarry to pass through. “Not at all, Swan. I’ll be right here.”

Emma returned as promised not five minutes later, sidling up to him at the bar. She ordered him another rum and herself a  _ real _ gin and tonic this time. Apparently now that she was off the clock, so to speak, true libations were acceptable. 

When their drinks arrived, he inclined his head to indicate her glass. “All done then, I take it? With your arrest, I mean.” He felt strangely exposed talking to her now, knowing how she’d seen right to the heart of his issues with Liam. He gripped his glass tightly to keep himself from scratching at that damn spot behind his neck. He knew she’d already learned that tell of his.

She tilted her glass up and took a deep gulp before replying. “Yup.” 

She seemed to be holding back as well, so he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “I don't know what I had pictured when you told me you were a bail bondsperson, but that…” He raised his brows and blew out a puff of breath. “That was not it.”

One corner of her mouth quirked into wry smile, and he took it as a good sign. “What did you expect?” she asked, amusement coloring her tone. “Some elaborate honey-pot trap where I suddenly tell him I know all about his sins until he realizes I’m a bounty hunter, flips the table into my lap, and makes a break for it? Nah-ah. Not in these heels.” 

She straightened a leg, pointing her toe to direct his attention to the footwear in question. Killian’s eyes trailed down the length of her leg and his mouth went dry. His fingers itched to trace the sinuous lines of her sculpted calf, to discover if her skin would feel as silky and warm beneath his calloused palm as he imagined. 

_ Gods, did she do that on purpose?  _ He drug his eyes back up to her face as quickly as he could make himself. “Those do seem a bit impractical for running down lawbreakers,” he said with a smirk.

“I track, I identify, I arrest.” She shrugged as if to indicate that this was all no great thing. “This one just got a little messy because he pissed me off.”

Killian laughed - a deep, resonating sound, that felt both foreign and entirely welcome in his chest. “You’re a bloody marvel, Swan.”

She beamed at him, then pursed her lips eyeing him up and down in consideration. “Marvelous enough that I’ve convinced you to talk to your brother?”

Killian took a small sip of his rum, and sighed in capitulation. There was no sense in denying it now. Still, far be it from him to miss an opportunity to tease her. “After that display? I’d be terrified not to do as you say. I might find myself tied to a tree or with a dagger to my throat.”

She lifted her brows so that they formed a peak above her pert little nose.

He raised his eyes to stare off at some point just above her head. “Yes, Swan. I’ll talk to him,” Killian deadpanned. He let his gaze fall back to hers again. “ _ Tomorrow. _ Tonight, I’m jet-lagged as hell and it’s been quite the bizarre evening.”

She nodded, giving him a small, self-satisfied grin. “Fair enough.”

Killian took another sip of rum, then grazed his tongue across the edge of his teeth in contemplation. Things were going so well between the two of them at the moment. Did he dare press his luck?

“You know, I can’t help but notice that you’re pushing rather forcefully for me to forgive Liam, but you don’t seem to be pleading a case for any forgiveness for yourself. Unrepentant, is that it? No regrets?” He’d meant to tease her, but the words came out with a bit more earnest curiosity than intended.

She licked her lips, and her posture grew very still. “I said I was sorry. For the lying.”

“Aye, you did.”

“And…” She looked down, swirling her finger through the condensation ring left behind by her glass. She seemed to be trying to decide something, and must have made her mind up about it, because she met his eyes again with a look of determination. “I was about to tell you everything right after we -” she cleared her throat, her eyes flickering away for a split second before she continued. “Right before you left.”

The wheels in his brain spun and he suddenly remembered. She  _ did _ try to stop him, tried to tell him something, but he was hell bent on running at the time and didn’t bother to hear her out. He pressed his eyes closed for a moment silently scolding himself. When he opened them again, Emma was chewing on her lower lip, studying him. 

“Besides,” she said with a casualness in her voice that rang false. “You made it pretty clear that I’m nothing to you. Just a stranger. I figured there was no ‘us’ to fix.”

Killian’s eyes widened at her admission. He couldn’t allow her to believe that for a moment. “Emma,” he breathed her name as gently, as tenderly as he could. “You aren’t nothing. You were  _ never  _ nothing.” 

He reached out tentatively and took her hand, curling his fingers around hers. She stared down at their joined hands resting on the bar, but didn’t pull away, though her breathing seemed to shallow. 

He had to ask. It was driving him increasingly mad the longer he spent in proximity to her. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t wish to, but I must ask. Emma, why did you kiss me?”

She met his eyes then, her expression a curious mix of nervousness and hope - an exact mirror of his own feelings. “Confession time? Because I wanted to. I really,  _ really  _ wanted to.” 

A broad grin split his face as soon as the words left her lips. Her lush, tantalizing, pink lips. He tugged on her hand gently, squeezing her delicate, cold fingers in his, and she smiled back at him. “I’ve got a confession of my own then. Amidst all the muddle that was my brain the last time I spoke to Liam, as angry and hurt as I was, some treacherous part of me was  _ ever so annoyingly _ happy that maybe all this mess -” he raised his prosthetic hand in an all-encompassing gesture, “meant that Emma Swan was single.”

She chuckled, and cocked an eyebrow at him “Is that right?” she asked, a smile in her voice.

“So…” He let his tongue trace the corner of his own mouth as his gaze flickered down to her lips and back up again. “Are you?”

She pressed her lips together, studying him for a moment, but her eyes danced with the same hope he now felt blossoming in his chest. “Yeah, I am.” she replied. “For now.”

* * *

Liam had been in the living room pacing like a caged tiger when Emma got home that night at nearly 2 a.m. She was accustomed by now to him worrying about her when she had to work late, especially out of town, but this was a new level of anxiety. Granted, she knew exactly why, but still - seeing him like that had been more than a little disconcerting.

He trained those big blue Jones eyes on her, and reached out with both hands as if expecting her to deliver him a large parcel. “So?” he asked, contracting his fingers in the universal gesture for ‘gimme’. “What happened?”

Emma hesitated. She felt good - very, very good - after her last conversation with Killian at the bar that everything was going to be okay, but she knew from experience that giving someone unrealistic hope was far worse than if the happy ending just never played out. Was it really so unrealistic though? For the first time in a long time, Emma thought that maybe hope and realism could peacefully co-exist.

“We talked,” she answered finally. “I slammed some other guy’s face into a bar, and then we talked some more. I think things are looking up.”

“And what does that mean?” he asked, his face scrunched in confusion.

“It means that I think you should get some sleep - we both should - and just wait and see what, if anything, happens tomorrow.” Emma stepped out of her heels, then pushed them under the coffee table with her bare toes. “Now go.” She pressed a hand to the middle of his back, rubbing soothing circles as she shooed him gently toward his bedroom. “Go snore on your side of the apartment.”

She should’ve known. She should’ve known from his huff of irritation as she gave him a final reassuring pat on the back and he closed his door behind him, that by morning she was going to regret brushing him off. At that moment, though, she was exhausted and weirdly happy and, well… she was pretty sure she was going to have some good dreams that night. Maybe a little bit of hope  _ wasn’t _ such a bad thing.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

_ Dammit. _

BAM! BAM!

_ I hate him.  _

BAM! BAM! BAM!

_ I guess I brought this on myself. Ugh.  _

Emma crawled out of bed, still wearing her clingy dress from the night before and stumbled toward the living room. There was Liam, hammering away at a… thingy. Made of wood. She guessed. Whatever. Coffee.

She scratched at her tangled hair and ambled over to the coffee pot, making sure she nudged him (‘kicked’ was too strong a word) with her foot on the way over. She supposed she could’ve called his name to get his attention, but words. Words are hard. Caffeine. 

As the coffee pot burbled to life, Liam looked up at her. “Ah, the princess has awakened!”

“Weekend,” Emma muttered with a scowl. “Ground rules.”

“True, true. But it  _ is _ after 10 a.m., so I’m well within the rules, love,” he replied, and the jackass had the audacity to wink at her. 

“Hmph” was the best retort Emma could come up with under the circumstances. 

Liam snickered and walked past her to the cabinets, retrieving two mugs. “If you’d like to go get dressed, I’ll pour you a cup when it’s ready.”

Emma’s genuine gratitude won out over her desire to say something snarky, and she simply nodded in response then headed back to her bedroom. A lightning quick shower, fresh clothes and her toothbrush soon had her feeling like a human again. 

Liam handed her a steaming cup as soon as she returned to the living room, but just as she settled herself onto the couch, a knock sounded at the door. Her heart rate increased as Liam moved to answer it. Under other circumstances, she might’ve been self-conscious about her wet hair and lack of makeup, but she was sure this particular visitor was more concerned with Liam at the moment than with her. 

“Killian?” Liam’s voiced sounded almost choked, and Emma looked over to see her roommate gripping his brother’s forearms tightly. “What are you doing here? Never mind. Come in, come in.”

Killian complied, following Liam into the living room. Emma stood, taking her coffee mug with her and had every intention of ducking into her bedroom to give the brothers some privacy, but Killian’s voice stopped her. “It’s alright, Swan. You can stay. Please.”

Wordlessly, Emma sat back down, sipping her coffee as she watched the brothers Jones intently, waiting to see who would speak first. 

“I’m sorry, Killian,” Liam began, sincerity evident in his voice. “I wanted to be this perfect example for you. To inspire you.”

Killian furrowed his brows. “All you did was raise the bar so high the only thing I could do was fail.”

Liam hung his head. “I’m sorry I let you down. I was selfish.”

“Aye, you were.” Killian nodded. “But, at some point this has to stop.”

Liam sighed wearily, meeting his brother’s eyes again. “Killian, I’m not ever going to stop trying to protect you. Not ever. I don’t care what you do or say.”

“I know,” Killian replied, his expression softening. “I need to stop punishing you.”

“You do?” Liam ducked his chin, looking down at Killian warily.

“Yes, I do.” Killian’s lips quirked up at one corner. “You’re my hero. This doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change the good person inside of you. It doesn’t change what you are.”

“Which is what?”

Killian reached out to place his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “My  _ brother _ . You wanted to protect me, so you lied. Which was rather self-defeating, but  _ human _ . Cutting you out, trying to hurt you has just made me miserable. Anyway, I miss you.” Killian shrugged, dropping his arm back to his side. “And I forgive you.”

They grinned at each other rather awkwardly in Emma’s opinion, and once again she was tickled to see both of their right hands reaching up to scratch behind their ears.  _ Boys _ , she thought with a small smile of her own.

As if they could hear her thinking, they both turned toward her as if they’d just remembered she was there. She raised her mug to them in a toast, hiding her smile behind the cup as she sipped. Killian’s eyes lingered on her, and she felt a flush of warmth slip over her skin under his gaze.

Liam cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. “I’ve always been a bit jealous of you, you know?”

Killian raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s true,” Liam confirmed, then his voice took on an almost adolescent whine. “Killian’s the clever one, Killian’s the charming one. He’s so bloody witty and perceptive. Woos all the ladies and has all the adventures.” He threw his hands in the air. “How could I ever compete with that? I’m just the stuffy old boring big brother.”

Killian shook his head slowly marvelling in disbelief, then smiled, opening his arms wide. “Come here you stuffy old git.”

“Oh shut it, you ponce.” Liam rolled his eyes, but accepted Killian’s hug, squeezing his brother for all he’s worth and ending it with the customary manly back-slapping.

When the brothers broke apart, Liam gestured to the couches and told Killian to take a seat while he fetched him a cup of coffee. Killian tentatively sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from Emma. Turning to face her, he ran his hand roughly through his hair and fixed her with a broad, almost dopey grin.

“Hi,” she said, unable to contain her grin in return.

“Hi,” he replied. “Thanks for talking some sense into me.”

Emma scrunched her nose playfully at him. “Anytime.”

Liam returned with the coffee and made himself comfortable in the arm chair. “So what are you two talking about? You look rather  _ cozy _ .” He emphasized the word with a twitch of his eyebrow.

Emma pursed her lips and glared at her meddling roommate.  _ Subtle. Very subtle.  _ She was about to comment, but Killian beat her to it.

“Honestly, Liam, we called a truce not 5 minutes ago, and already you’re trying to take the piss out of me?”

“Fine, fine. No more taunting,” Liam drawled, the quickly amended, “for today, at any rate. And no more lying. Ever. For either of us.”

Killian hummed in agreement as he took a sip of his coffee. His face turned pensive for a moment before he spoke. “Bloody stupid thing to lie about, wasn’t it?”

Emma set her mug down on the table and leaned forward to listen.

Liam tilted his head in question. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean, brother, is that if you were going to lie to get out of spending the weekend out on the town, why didn’t you tell me you were sick or something? Much less complicated. Easier to fake. No long-term follow-up.”

Liam locked his eyes on Emma and she stared right back at him. Killian was absolutely right. They were a couple of idiots. She wasn’t sure which one of them cracked first, but soon enough they’d both burst out laughing. 

“Oh my god,” Emma chortled shaking her head and swiping a hand at the corner of her eye.

“This, Liam” Killian admonished as their laughter died down, “ _ This  _ is why they say I’m the clever one.” He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “And I’ve another clever idea for you. It’s nearing lunch time. Why don’t you go pick up the lovely Tink and the four of us can meet up at Granny’s. I think I’d rather enjoy getting to know your new girlfriend. The  _ real _ one.”

Liam’s eyes lit up endearingly at the mention of Tink’s name. “An excellent plan, brother.”

For a moment Liam glanced knowingly between Killian and Emma. She thought he was about to say something else, but he seemed to think better of it. Instead he stood and grabbed his truck keys and wallet off the counter, then headed to the door. “I’ll see the two of you in half an hour.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Emma became terribly, painfully aware of her state of aloneness with Killian. They’d parted on a high note in Boston - or at least she thought it had been a high note. She told him the truth about kissing him because she’d wanted to, and he hadn’t backed away. He’d actually smiled. And then made sure she was single. So maybe Liam wasn’t totally off base with his teasing? So then...

“So…” Emma began awkwardly.

“So.” Killian smirked and scooted closer to her on the couch, their knees barely brushing. “Are you ready to go on our second date?”

Emma cocked her head to the side, barely suppressing the smile threatening to break across her features. “Second date? Did I miss the first?”

“Aye,” he said with feigned nonchalance. “The drink you bought me in Boston was the first, double date with my brother and his lass is the second. Do try and keep up, darling.”

He leaned in closer, that stupid smirk on his face and his stupid tongue doing wicked things again. He grinned lecherously when he caught her staring at his mouth.  _ Cocky asshole. _

She needed to do something to set him off-balance, needed to see if she could affect him as much as he was affecting her. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and reached out to smooth her hand over the lapel of his leather jacket. The widening of his eyes and hitch in his breath were slight, but gratifying nonetheless.

“What a shame,” she said with a pout ( _ and there goes that tongue of his again. Good lord, it’s got a mind of it’s own _ ). “Maybe I’d have known it was a date if there had been a good night k-”

Before she could finish her sentence, Killian surged forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that made her toes curl. She threw her arms around his shoulders, and fell willingly as he lay back on the couch pulling her on top of him. His hand caressed the curve of her jaw, the nape of her neck, finally tangling his fingers in her hair. His other arm wrapped around her waist, his prosthesis pressing firmly into the small of her back as if he couldn’t get close enough to her. She knew the feeling well - it was the same one coursing through her own blood.

Emma nipped at his upper lip, and he opened to her, letting that talented tongue of his slip and curve around hers. She breathed him in, swallowing his moan as their lips worked in tandem and this, _ THIS _ is exactly what she needed. Exactly what she -

The door swung open abruptly and Liam’s voice boomed through the living room. “Have either of you seen my…” 

Emma raise her head to see Liam frozen, absolutely stunned. Killian groaned exasperatedly underneath her, and she dropped her forehead down to his chest, clinging to his lapel and burying her nose in his shirt front to hide her laughter.

She turned her head, pressing her ear to Killian’s chest ( _ I guess I CAN make his heart race _ ), and looked up at Liam to see his face plastered with a smug grin. “Phone. I, ah, left my phone, but I suppose I can find it after lunch. I’ll just let you two have at it then.” 

He stepped back out the door, and Emma could feel Killian reaching down to the floor for something. Just before the door closed, Liam popped his head around it and flicked his hand at them in a commanding gesture. “Carry on!”

The door shut and was immediately struck by the cushion Killian had apparently aimed at Liam’s face. Emma laughed again, looking down at Killian as he scrubbed his hand across his forehead. 

“Oh, brother…” he sighed, then placed his hand back at her waist squeezing gently and looked up at her with fire in his eyes and the very devil in his smile. “Now, Swan, where were we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to imagine how things went from there. *wink-wink*  
> Thanks to Krystal (captainswannl29) for the read through and hand-holding when I couldn't figure out what the hell I was doing with this story.  
> Thank you all so much for your support of this piece! I am overwhelmed with the response it has received (and I promise to be better about responding to reviews).
> 
> What do you think of the happy ending? REVIEWS?


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